


What Goes Around, Comes Around

by nordicdreamsndutchthings



Series: What Goes Around, Comes Around [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Jealousy, Revenge, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nordicdreamsndutchthings/pseuds/nordicdreamsndutchthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a fourteen months since Jack Napier aka the Joker went to Arkham for treatment. Fifteen since the world found out his identity. And yet external forces are out to get him and ruin the little peace he has created with one Misha Alau' din.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams With Darker Meanings

_"_ _You betrayed us," hissed a voice, breaking through the silence of his dark cell like a snake attacking its prey. Soon enough, like the snake's bite itself, Jack felt a staggering pain build up in his chest and explode throughout his body. He shrieked._

_"_ _You did not keep your end of the deal." The voice continued, its tone increasing by each word pronounced. "What will we do to traitors?"_

_And that's when he panicked. Until now Jack had been listening, waiting for it, like the many dreams, the hallucinations he had been experiencing since he started his treatment, to end. And yet, he said nothing. He tried to stop the expanding pain, tried to stop the quickening of his heart but to no avail. His dreams had not been like this. He could control himself- at least that's what his doctors encouraged him to do. But he couldn't do it and that is when it hit him: this was no dream. He allowed himself to open his eyes and to his horror found a shadow standing near his bed._

_Jack closed his eyes in vain. They had found him._

_"_ _Fear not Joker," the voice said, "We know about her." He opened his eyes again, and bolted off his bed._

_"_ _You know nothing!" he shrieked at the monster near his bed. "You don't know anything!" The monster laughed a cold, distant- bitter- laugh and continued._

_"_ _We know. And we will get her." The figure grew close and Jack saw its flaming red eyes. "What goes around comes around Joker- we won't spare you."_

_Jack stared into the devilish orbs and saw her there. His wife- she was in a park, laughing as he guided her towards an unknown destination. Her hair was loose, just like he liked them best, and blew into the wind. She wore a summer dress which too floated in the wind. And she was beautiful. She looked beautiful and it awakened the desire to make her so happy- as happy as she was right now- in him and then she vanished. His wife vanished leaving him alone- in a barren desert, isolated from the rest of the world._

_"_ _Misha!" he called, running around, here, there, everywhere just trying to find her and when he came to a mountain, he saw her but she was not smiling anymore. She was the same but sad, her eyes cold, distant and cruel._

_"_ _You did this," she said before letting herself fall off the other side._

Jack's eyes fluttered opened, his hand shooting to his temple to find that it was drenched in sweat. Faint light of the early morning or a late cloudy afternoon he didn't know which, came through the bars of his prisonlike bedroom at the Arkham Asylum. He almost wondered, for a splitting moment where he was until it all came back to him and he ran towards the door of his cell. Blasted, it was locked!

"Help!" he shouted, banging the door loudly to alert the staff. "I need help! Somebody open the door- please!"

Finally, it opened to reveal one of his therapists, Dr Arnold somebody who was rather taken aback. "What's wrong Jack?" he asked him.

"Batman! Where's Batman?" Jack asked him, finally losing his cool. "I need Batman! He knows- he – he's coming to get her- to get me!"

"Calm down," the doctor entered the room, a couple of wardens following him.

Jack backed away, hysterical. "No, you don't understand- I need Batman! Please! I'm alright! I need Batman!"

The staff looked at one another confused, as he staggered backwards, stumbling over his own books. He often had moments of insanity when the Joker tried to take over again but he was never aware of those moments. Right now, he seemed pretty aware of his situation. And he was frightened out of his wits.

"We might actually need Batman," Dr Arnold told the two wardens who nodded.

* * *

"Before you do something stupid, remember- I'm only gone for the weekend," Misha Alau' din told Bruce Wayne as she sat into the car.

"Don't worry, Mis," Bruce replied, teasing her. "It won't be too bad."

"Oh shut up and take care of yourself," she said. Bruce grinned and stepped back. A moment later the chauffeur started the engine and drove her away. And that's when Alfred made his appearance.

"Miss Alau 'din left?" he asked him. "Well, I'm afraid there's a request for batman."

Bruce turned around frowning. "What kind of request?"

"Jack wants to see him," Alfred replied.

"Why does he want to see Batman?"

"He'll have to go to Arkham to find out now, won't he Master Wayne," Alfred told him and Bruce nodded.

"Right, I'll be there," he turned to leave but upon seeing that Alfred had not yet moved stopped. "What?"

"Shouldn't we be informing Miss Alau' din about this? She is his wife by the way," he stated as a matter of factly.

Bruce thought for a moment and said, "No, let her go. What's the worse he can say? Jack's pretty normal for someone who used to be the Joker. I'll see what he wants."

"It would be better if Miss Alau' din knew. He might want to see her," Alfred told him but Bruce shrugged.

"No, I can handle it." With that he left for the bat cave where he suited up and made for Arkham. At the hospital, he was guided by the security staff (after scaring one of them by simply appearing behind them) to a waiting room which oddly resembled an interrogation room what with the single table, two chairs, white walls, no windows and florescent lights it possessed.

Then again, this was a mental asylum so maybe it was a sort of panic room or something. He did not know. A moment later a doctor entered. "Batman," he said, sitting on one of the chairs. Bruce remained standing. "I'm Dr Arnold Creevey- I'm supervising Jack's treatment." He said nothing and the doctor proceeded, "I just want to give you a heads up. He's not like this normally but for the past few days, he's been having dreams or hallucinations of sorts which leave him terrorized for hours. He keeps asking for you and I wouldn't have called you if I didn't think it'd be necessary. He seems to believe that he and _his wife_ are in danger of some kind." Bruce did not like the way the man mentioned Misha, as though she was dangerous or non existent. Nonetheless, he let it pass and went about with the doctor's guidance.

"Right, so I'll bring him in," the doctor concluded and walked out. A few minutes passed and then arrived Jack, accompanied by two guards. Bruce frowned when he saw him. There was something amiss about Jack. For one, he looked sick, nervous and seemed to have lost a lot of weight. For another, well, the man was shaking, wide- eyed as though he was afraid that everything around him would go against him.

"Jack," he said, nearly causing the man to jump out of his own skin even though that was not his intention. Something had shaken him badly and he wondered if it simply were the so called dreams and hallucinations. The last time Misha had visited Jack, she had not told Bruce about any of these.

Were they a recent development?

If so, then what could have scared him in a matter of weeks?

"You're here," the man before him said. Bruce saw Jack visibly untense. "Umm…" Even his voice was different, he realized. The Joker's sadistic voice was replaced with a much more huskier one. Of course, he sounded like a disturbed child by the way he said 'you're here' but it was still a big achievement, Bruce reckoned, for the man who once was the Joker.

Jack began to speak, "When I was _him,_ I made a few business deals with a few people. The mob- Maroni primarily and a few- I killed most of them though. There's also the Scarecrow, and some other people from outside Gotham who're really interested in the city."

Batman leaned forward. "Who?"

"Well, I don't know- or remember any names but there's this man who wears a mask," he told him. "Him. And then there's this girl- Poison? Or was it Eve? I don't remember. But I know- I don't know how- but I know they're after me. They want to hurt my wife to get to me."

He remained silent as he watched the man talk. _He's really worried about this, Bruce_ thought. It was only when he got to Misha that he considered immediate action. "What do you mean when you say they will hurt your wife?" he asked.

"They'll torture her," Jack's face twisted into one on the verge of a meltdown. "They'll do that because I betrayed them. You have to keep her safe. You have to!" He was getting hysterical- making it the time for him to leave.

"Alright Mr Napier," he said, standing up. "I'll make sure of that."

* * *

Monday morning saw Bruce in his office for some reason _\- okay,_ so the reason wasn't that unknown he had, after all, told Jack that he would watch out for Misha. Needless to say, his secretary was incredibly surprised by his sudden interest in doing his job for once.

"Is one of the new hires interesting you?" the former student asked him, when she met him in the hall for the fifth time in an hour.

"What? No! I'm just walking around my office," he stated, "it's small so there's not much to do-"

"And that's exactly why you shouldn't be here," she interrupted him.

"Are you eager to get rid of me Mish?" he asked her, using the nickname he knew she hated.

For the sake of professionalism, she ignored it. "Yes, I am. There's a board meeting and rumour has it that you're cruising the Pacific with a bunch of Victoria's Secret Angels. So pray, tell me: what are you doing here then Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce smirked. "Perhaps I changed my mind. Maybe I want to attend this meeting."

Misha rolled her eyes. "Of course. Maybe you just want to surprise everyone?"

"Maybe I do," he answered coyly. Misha smiled at him before walking off to complete some of her other duties. Bruce knew it was a thin line he was walking on. It was one thing to be regarded as a playboy, another to be flirting with another man's wife. But that was something he did anyway. He often felt more envious than guilty. Misha in many ways, reminded him of Rachel. Sometimes, it was even like Rachel herself was talking to him. He knew she never took their banters and conversations seriously but to Bruce, they were glimpses of what could have been. He wasn't jealous of Jack though- if it had not been for the Joker, he would have never met Misha but there were moments like these when he wondered…

But she was a woman married and there was really nothing he could do about it. Except keep his promise. It helped him a little that at least he saw more of her than her husband did these days anyway.

In fact, the real reason why she was his secretary was so that he could see more of her. He wanted to at least experience the illusion of what life with Rachel used to be- could have been like. Alfred thought him mental to do that but for Bruce, it was a way of recovering. Maybe one day he could finally come into terms with what happened and find his own Misha.

"Heads up, director in coming." The very subject of his thoughts called, lightly hitting him on his arm with a book she was carrying as she walked past. Bruce turned and indeed saw the director of the Wayne Enterprises walking up towards him.

Jokes aside, he really enjoyed Misha's company when she warned him of potential boring people. With that thought, he turned around and ran after his secretary. He was going to avoid the director no matter what.

"Thanks," he muttered as he sat beside her in the conference room.

"No problem," she mouthed, shuffling papers as one of the board members began speaking.

"What's this for?" he whispered, eyeing the papers she had.

"Unlike you, I have actual work to do Bruce," she informed him graciously. He smiled. "Well, duh- you do my job for me," he whispered back. She glared at him while he winked and then there was silence as she began writing notes and he think.

The meeting was long and boring but he was able to entertain both himself and Misha by the occasional odd comment about a member or two. Unlike Alfred and Lucius, she actually laughed at his jokes- because she liked them, and that was more than he could say for most of his 'dates' at social events. They were halfway through when Misha received a text. Normally during a meeting she would just look at the sender's ID and not read the message but at that very moment, she not only read the text (he could tell she did because of the time she spent watching the screen of her phone) but also walked out of the interview.

Bruce immediately knew that something was wrong and after a quick nod at Fox, he walked out as well. Misha was talking to someone, pacing the length of the passage. She looked at him briefly, smiling uncertainly. Actually, she was doing more of the listening than the talking; only humming a yes every now and then. He waited for her to be done with it and then asked, "Everything alright?"

"No," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "He's done it Bruce. He tried escaping Arkham." With that she sank into the nearest chair, letting out a sob. "What am I supposed to do now?"


	2. Seeing Him Again

"

We've had to strain him- you know, to make sure that he doesn't harm himself," the doctor told them as he guided towards Jack's bedroom. "I suggest you be extremely careful around him."

Misha nodded. "Of course," she said.

"He's being forced fed," he went on, "he refuses to interact with everyone else. I don't know what's wrong with him. There's nothing we can do. Calling you was the last resort, as you can see."

"I know," she agreed once more. Her demeanor was cold, Bruce noted, opting to stay silent as Misha and Jack's doctor- Arnold somebody (really, he should have remembered the man's name considering how he'd met the man before too) conversed. He had to hand it to her; she was ridiculously good at pulling herself together. She did not look like someone who- not an hour ago- had had an emotional breakdown and that was one of the reasons why he liked her so much; she was so very like Rachel. They stopped in front of his room and the doctor guided him away. Only Misha was allowed to see Jack after all.

"I'll be fine," she told him, watching him exist- going towards the surveillance room because that's where Bruce- being Bruce- was bound to be. With security, making sure that Jack didn't do anything outrageous. As much as she would rather have no one watch over her and Jack while they talked, she knew the risks. Until Jack was completely healed, there were still chances that the Joker may resurface.

She took a deep breath before walking inside. What she saw ached her heart, pulling its strings harshly. Jack sat in a corner, his hands truly restrained by a straitjacket, legs sprawled in front of him and head hung low.

It almost scared her. The last time she'd seen Jack like this was when…

She shook her head. No, she would not think about that. Instead, she walked up to him, careful not to scare him. "Hey Jack," she muttered, softly and settled before him, between his legs. He looked up slowly- as though he'd been defeated- but when he did, his eyes widened at the sight of her.

"You're safe," he stated, staring at her in wonder and awe. He had bags under his eyes, his face thinner- actually, he looked thinner than the last time she'd seen him and that had been only three weeks earlier.

"Of course I am," she answered, leaning in to hug him. Jack pushed himself towards her- his best attempt at hugging her back given how his hands were restrained.

"They didn't get you," he said, confusion lacing his voice.

"No they didn't," she agreed even though she had no idea who 'they' were. She had the urge to downright question him but stopped knowing her husband's fragile state of mind.

"Oh Misha," he cried and this time she couldn't help herself. The doctor had told her to be careful but how the hell could she be careful when this was Jack? Jack looked so hurt, so broken and it pained her so much to see him like this. She couldn't do anything- rip the shirt off him like she wanted to that is- because she was perfectly aware of the security staff- no doubt consisting of a team of doctors and Bruce himself, watching over them. She wasn't going to give them a show. They already considered her crazy enough for marrying the man who used to be Joker.

"It's going to be okay," she said instead and kissed him chastely on the left cheek right on his scars. They scared people but to Misha, Jack's scars were beautiful- a part of him which she had come to appreciate. Already deprived of affection for so long, Jack moaned. "I missed you," he breathed when she pulled away.

"I missed you too," she said automatically. She allowed herself to smile a little, he looked much better now that he'd seen her. He had really missed her.

"How're you feeling now?" she asked him, moving to stroke his hair- he liked it when she did that. It was their thing. Jack would play with her hair and she'd do the same to his as well.

"Good, now that you're here," he added. Even like this, he was trying to play coy. He still had some spunk in him and that partly relieved her.

"Really?" she asked leaning forward so their lips were only a few centimeters away. His breath hitched, his back arched as he replied, "Maybe you should come here more often."

"Maybe I should," she whispered, leaning in. She kissed him softly, savoring every single sensation. She had missed him as well. She had missed him so much and it hurt to see him like this. But somehow, Jack's attitude made it seem, well, normal. Things had never been normal with Misha and Jack. From the start their relationship had been a strange, dysfunctional one. But right now, even in his room in a mental hospital, things were okay- as close to normal as things could be between them. She could pretend that he hadn't been a mass murderer that they weren't in a psyche ward right now that they were completely alone, sharing this moment. And he could pretend that he wasn't half as twisted as they said he was and that he hadn't seen her in weeks.

They could be like any other normal couple in Gotham. Certainly not misfits and madmen like they really were. They pulled back and when they did, Misha hugged him once more. "I love you," she whispered into his ear so only he could hear her. Jack whimpered and muttered a similar response. They were acting like teenagers; she realized when she stepped back. Even though she was pretty sure that the security people and Bruce hadn't heard them, they had guessed what had happened. Despite all their strengths, neither were good actors when it came to each other- being completely unable to hide their feelings for one another.

A faint pink dusted across Jack's cheeks and she was sure that she was positively blushing. She might have been a tomato for all she knew!

Misha coughed. "The doctor says you haven't been eating properly," she told him.

"The food here sucks," her husband replied as a matter of factly.

"Jack…"

_"_ _Misha."_

She sighed. Okay, this would not work.

"Jack," she tried once more, "why aren't you eating?"

"They wouldn't let me call you," he countered.

"Jack, you can't do this," she exclaimed. "You know the rules. You can't call me."

"And you don't have time to call me," he finished.

She looked heavenwards. "I was busy- and even I have limits on calling you," she reminded him. As part of their sentence, Misha was restricted to visiting Jack on her own wish and was only allowed to do so once a month. Jack was being treated at Arkham because of his moments of insanity as the Joker, had no rights whatsoever.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, too busy for me."

She cupped his face with both hands. "Don't be like this, Jack. I would visit you all the time if I had the choice," she carried on, "you know I would."

"But you can't," he said, miserably like a child, "and what's worse- I need you to be near me. I can't function properly without you."

"We can't disobey the rules," she reminded him once more.

He leaned close to kiss her, hungrily almost, and she let him. "Fuck the rules," he growled. "I need you." Misha closed her eyes. And that's where it was all stemming from. _He needed her_. She felt her stomach drop.

"I need you too," she muttered, "I need you to obey the rules Jack." She caressed his face and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "But we can't afford a mistake. Not right now. You've got two months for your sentence left. Two months and we'll be together again." He hung his head once more and nodded.

"Two months," he repeated, "and then we'll be together. Always. You won't leave me. Ever again." She nodded.

"Anything you want Jack," she said. He smiled airily.

Misha dropped her hand and looked heavenwards. She'd need something when she got home to cope with all of this. "I'm going to take this jacket off okay?" she whispered. Jack nodded and she proceeded to undo the various straps, buttons and what not that secured the attire. He didn't say anything, remaining oddly quiet as she worked. Finally, when she got to the last bit, she pushed the jacket upwards- Jack complied and hoisted his arms upwards while she proceeded to peel it off from over his head. She knew she was disobeying the rules and that may turn out to be quite ugly but honestly, right now- she couldn't care less.

Jack hugged her, tackling her to the ground the moment he was free, planting kisses over whatever bare parts of skin he could find. There was a distinct alertness about him which scared her but then it came to her that he hadn't seen her in weeks and whatever mental state he was in required him to touch her to make sure this was real. After all, sometimes even she had to maintain contact with him to make sure this was all real.

"Jack- I can't bweathe," she managed to utter when the lack of oxygen created due to his tight grip started to infiltrate within her. Thankfully he listened, and pulled back. He was smirking. Misha sat up on her elbows, an eyebrow quirked. "What?" she asked him.

"You're wearing a skirt," he said to her, "I've never seen you wearing a skirt before." And that did it, she looked away blushing. He wasn't lying though. It was true. He had never seen her in a dress, gown, skirt or anything like that for the matter. When he'd met her she was struggling to pay college tuition and often wore baggy, ill fitting clothes that usually consisted of jeans or slacks. Even now whenever she visited him, she always wore jeans or slacks. It wasn't something she did intentionally. It was completely unintentional- a weird coincidence of sorts but she did anyway and Jack was positively amused by it.

"Well, I was at work," she told him, trying so hard to maintain her composure. "These are my work clothes."

"You've visited me many times when you were coming directly from work Misha," he stated and yes, it was true too.

"So?" she asked. This wasn't working well- there were people watching them who must already be commenting on their awkward sitting position and this, oh god _\- Bruce was watching! He'd never let this go!_

"I think you look rather ravishing love," he said seductively. Misha closed her eyes hoping silently for this torture to end. Oh dear- she was definitely blushing. How did he do that? He always managed to shatter this professional, cold demeanor of hers and leave her fluttering like a schoolgirl. Misha was not a schoolgirl; she hadn't been one in two years. She was a graduate of Gotham University, the best in her class, working at Bruce Enterprises as Bruce Wayne's secretary- she did not flutter like a schoolgirl. Why, she could just imagine what Bruce would say- he'd tease her to death. Imagine her, cold, professional Misha turning into a pile of mush because of her husband.

Oh dear GOD.

"Well, I try," she smiled, nervously. It didn't help that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She'd known he'd been in a better shape ever since he'd gotten here because of the workout thing the hospital had for its patience but to have the evidence of just how much in shape he'd gotten was leaving a number on her. "Jack, don't you have any shirts?" she asked him standing up to look around his bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a bed on one side against the wall and a little shelf of sort in the other. She walked up there, found a shirt amidst his copy of the Prince by Machiavelli and a picture of her and hurried back to him.

Jack was looking at her, a smile playing on his lips that brought attention to his scars. "I wonder," he mused, taking it from her and putting it on.

Misha did not press further. She knew exactly what he was thinking and certainly did not want the others to hear. It would be terribly embarrassing. Jack leaned forward. "I wonder how you'll be once I have you writhing under me love," he whispered into her ear and she felt shivers running down her spine.

_Oh dear. He's done it!_

Misha stood up, completely disoriented and walked to the door. "I'm getting lunch for you," she stated, wearing that emotionless mask of hers as she opened the door. Sure enough, she talked to one of the guards that stood by his door and after much insistence he brought her what she wanted. She had to admit, by the Jack way had put it, she had expected lunch to be bland, like cafeteria food these Americans kept complaining about that was given in high schools- surely he was not referring to the vegetable and fruit salad on the menu. She'd make a lot of veggies when he used to stay with her- he certainly did not have a problem with vegetables then.

"What's wrong with lunch?" she asked him, sitting cross- legged in front of him and setting the tray between them. Jack made a face.

"Surely you don't have a problem with vegetables," she said. Lunch was simple enough: a bottle of water, a smaller one of juice, a bowl of green salad and a steak with boiled potatoes and corn. Jack pouted. "I don't like the food here," he said, crossing his arms.

"Oh come on," she said, "you were fine for the past fourteen months!"

"Yeah, well, they got a new chief," he said.

"And?"

"He's horrible at cooking."

"Jack, you're behaving like a child."

"It's horrible, you taste," he insisted. Misha smiled uncertainly.

"I can't," she reminded him.

"Why?" He wasn't getting the hint.

"I'm… you know… I don't eat every sort of meat."

That wasn't good enough for him. "Oh please Misha; you're not even a Muslim. Why should that be an issue to you?"

She sighed. "It's something I grew up with. I can't get over it. Sorry."

Jack groaned. "How will you know that it's horrible- if you can't taste it?"

"It smells good Jack."

"It smells _awful."_

"Then there's nothing wrong, now eat!" She took a spoonful of the salad and made it for his mouth. Jack avoided contact until a couple of times. C'mon Jack," she cheered, hoping he'd listen. "It's not that bad." Didn't work. Misha changed tactics. "I won't kiss you if you don't eat." Her husband straightened immediately. He made a face.

"Fine," he said, almost childishly and Misha chuckled as she fed him the meal. It felt like the old days. Back when she was the crazy university student housing the Joker. He had been rather resilient of eating food at her apartment even though he hadn't been doing himself any favor in the effort to get her to cook something he was more familiar with.

"Much better isn't it?" she said, after feeding him three more spoonfuls. Jack scowled at her. "What am I?" he wanted to know. "four?"

She giggled.

"What?"

"It's just… you said that once, when I tried feeding you some soup remember?"

Jack smiled at that. "Ah, those were the days," he agreed, a wistful expression on his face. "I really miss your cooking Misha."

She froze, staring at him in shock.

"You what?" she asked him in disbelief.

"Yes, I do," he responded and Misha felt as though she might just faint. Jack was telling her that he liked her cooking- Jack who spent countless hours complaining, no, _whining,_ about how bad of a cook she was and how she ruined-

"Do you, now?"

"Yes." He repeated his answer, an eyebrow raised. Misha almost laughed aloud when she realized that he didn't remember. Really, it took all that was in her to prevent herself from bursting out laughing.

"Of course you do," she agreed, leaning forward to kiss him once more. They talked a little for a while, mostly random things like her job, his therapy sessions and things like that. By the time it was time to leave, she had completely managed to subside any doubts he had previously regarding her safety.

She met the doctor, Arnold Creevey, outside his room. Bruce was with him. "Yeah, so I'm not good at listening," she confessed, referring to letting him take off his straitjacket. The doctor shrugged.

"Actually I think you're exactly what we need," he said. "If you will, Miss Alau' din, would I make a suggestion?"

"Go on."

"I want to release Jack next week."


	3. Freedom

Misha stared at Dr Creevey in shock- well, a positive sort of shock but a shock nonetheless. "What?" she managed to stutter. Her brain was in frenzy. She'd been wanting this for quite some time now- ever since he'd been taken away by the police that day. Could it be- really- so soon after….? Seeing him today had been a sort of gift, considering how she was not allowed to see him more than once a month- in fact, seeing him twice a month was a Christmas present but really- this couldn't be real, right?

She was not used to things going in her favor. She never had. As pessimistic as it sounded, Misha was a rather the glass is half empty sort of a person. She had been the only female child of two very rich (and adoring) parents who, upon their death, had been deprived of her birth right. Life had been hard for Misha since the tender age of eleven and she really- rather _, had_ never expected things to be better. But then one fine day, she came across Jack and her world had turned upside down. For the better; she could say now a few years later.

Misha chose to listen his doctor instead.

"Indeed," the good doctor was saying, "We've seen how you handle him. I think what you just did in a few hours is more than we could do in weeks. I- and the rest of my team- believe that the only way to make Jack completely mentally and physically fit is to keep him with you, expose him to real life situations so he can adapt to normal life again."

"So basically what you're saying is that you can't fix him any longer and are willing to let Misha do that job for you?" Bruce intervened. Misha turned to look at him. It was the first time she was seeing him since their arrival here and boy, did he look angry. It was safe to say that Bruce was not in favor of this proposition.

"No, what I mean-" the doctor tried once more.

"No, I won't have it. The Joker is a threat to everyone," he said, "we can't have him out in the public for everyone to see if there's even a margin of risk that he'll turn back into his sadist ways. I won-"

"I will," she said to the doctor.

Bruce stared at her in disbelief. "You can't be serious Misha!"

"I am," she said, "I wouldn't mind. Besides, he was going to be released in two months anyway."

"But-"

"He's my husband Bruce," she said, stressing on the word 'husband'. "I'm not going to be keeping him here forever." With that she turned to the doctor. "When can I come get him?"

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Commissioner James Gordon asked Bruce disguised as Batman. "They can't help him anymore so they're letting him stay with her."

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Can they do that? It can't be safe- he isn't done with the full session," he went on.

"I know."

"And Misha's going with it?"

"Yes."

"What do you think we should do?"

"That's why I'm here," he retorted and Jim sighed in defeat.

"Well… if you put it that why," he scratched the back of his neck thinking hard, "there's really nothing that we can do apart from having a few policemen follow them around."

"Hmmm. What about your men going undercover?" Bruce suggested.

"Well, I had thought of that but it's too sudden and I don't have time to make an alibi an-"

"Two of your men can work at Wayne Enterprises- who also can commission them to live in the apartment immediately below Misha's."

Jim blinked in surprise. "You can do that?" But then he realized who he was talking to and nodded, "Well, if you're set we can get them started with the alibis. When are they releasing Joker- I mean, Jack?"

"Next week," his answer was short and curt.

"Well, let's get started then," Jim said, "We'll need to go over everything. How about you stopping by…."

His voice trailed off when he realized that Batman had vanished.

_Again._

Really, how _did_ he do that?

* * *

Come Monday Misha found herself in a staring match with the mirror in her bedroom. She inspected her attire with utmost detail. She was dressed in a plain light blue dress that went down all the way to her knees, beige stockings, white platforms, a white dinner jacket and her mother's watch. Her hair was done up in a bun and was wearing her usual make up of a thin layer of eyeliner around her eyes and light pink gloss, and nude platform heels- just to gain a bit more height so she would feel confident even though she never admit it.

"Today's the day," she said to herself. Twirling a lock of stray hair, she decided that she looked good. She hoped that she was not overdoing it. But then, what was the definition of overdo? She wondered. She was going to be seeing her husband again and this time, he was coming home with her.

The thought made her flustered about a number of things. She decided she would make dinner tonight. Oh yes, she'd definitely do that. Maybe lamb? Jack did love lamb. Or was his second favorite meal- steak a better option? Maybe she could prepare fish and chips for him.

Misha did not know.

She did, however, hope that all those cooking lessons she'd been taking would come to use tonight. She really wanted Jack to feel at home. Misha turned around to survey her bedroom. She'd cleaned it up for today. She had changed the bed sheets, the linens and all that stuff and had also cleared up some space in the wardrobe for his stuff.

Speaking of his stuff- it occurred to Misha that she might have to him shopping sometime this week to accommodate the various requirements he might have of dressing up. Personally she knew that she could pick out everything for him on her own but for the sake of spending time with him, decided against it.

She'd take him out shopping in the weekend. In the mean time she looked through his old things and after careful consideration, picked out a few clothes for him to wear when he was being released. She most certainly not going to let him wear some criminal's hands me down or- _God forbid-_ those god awful clothes that belonged to the Joker.

With that in mind, she left for work.

The day passed slower than she would have liked and for some reason the entire universe seemed to be against her on this particular day. For one thing, someone had locked up her office and done away with the keys and she had to get the company carpenter dude or whoever he was to open it. It did not help that he wasn't there and so she had to wait for two whole hours for him to come which caused her to be behind schedule more than she would have liked especially since she had wanted to leave for early today.

Then some of the files had vanished mysteriously and she had to re-do most of her work. All in all by the time she was done, she had worked well over an hour more than she'd planned. Thank god that Jack or his doctor did not know when she got off.

Needless to say that finally, after what seemed like a million years to her, she was out of work, in her car and well on her way to Arkham. After the longest fifteen minutes of her life, she was through security and in the good doctor's office waiting for Jack to enter. He was currently changing his clothes.

"I need you to sign this," Dr Creevey told her and Misha nodded, immediately taking the paper and reading it. By the time she was done and had signed, Jack entered the room.

He looked different, she reckoned. Maybe she was just used to seeing him looking a little scrawnier than he was now. The shirt was obviously a little too fit on him. Misha reckoned that she'd take him shopping the next day. She didn't want everyone ogling at her husband like she had been doing just now.

"Jack," she said, walking towards him, enveloping him in a hug. He responded immediately, hugging her in that tight, protective engulf that he reserved for her.

"Misha," he whispered before letting her go.

"Is there anything else doctor?" he asked him. Dr Creevey shook his head.

"You can take your leave now," he said and after a brief good bye, they left.

The ride home was quiet. Misha kept her eyes fixed on the road and Jack did the same. Soon the silence became unbearable for her and she stopped the car at the nearest isolated car park.

"Jack, is everything alright?" she asked him.

He only responded by kissing her.

* * *

When they'd finally gotten back home, it was late. A little too late to bother cooking something and she decided to order pizza. It occurred to her that she'd done it so very often back when they lived together in her crappy apartment. She briefly wondered if he remembered and was tempted to ask him. She kept quiet though, she didn't want to trigger any memories of the place. Specially the last few days anyway.

The Joker was a sadist bastard.

"Jack," she called him once she was done setting up the coffee table in her lounge. She reckoned they'd watch a movie together since it seemed super formal and awkward to have pizza in the dining table. She found him in their bedroom, arranging his stuff. He'd been in much better spirits after their little rendezvous in the car.

He was actually behaving like a teenager and she would have found it strange if it wasn't for the fact that Jack did behave like a teenager. She guessed that was why she liked him, he balanced out her seriousness. They were the exact opposite of one another and maybe that's why they worked out so well.

Misha liked that.

Things finally seemed normal.

For once in her life.

"Dinner's gonna be here any minute now," she told him.

He smiled briefly at that which brought attention to his scars. Not that she minded, she liked them. They were a part of him which she'd come to accept and even though he had not told her the story behind them, she reckoned she'd be ready for it when the time came. For now she just wanted him to feel comfortable. That way they could go on with their lives.

"Uh- yeah," he simply said, a brow raised in question.

"Pizza," she told him, "and a movie. Sounds good?"

He nodded but seemed a little faraway. Misha stepped forward and hugged him. "Is everything alright Jack?" she asked him.

He was in deep thought as he led her to their bed and had her sit at the edge. Then he kneeled in front of her and said, "You know, it occurred to me that I never proposed to you."

She stared at him in confusion. True, he had never asked her but it was kind of a silent mutual agreement. She was cool, he was cool. That had been it. So where was this come from?

She must have been explicit about her facial expressions because at the moment Jack chuckled aloud. "I know," he said, "it was kind of something we both wanted but I didn't and for some reason I feel guilty. I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, you don't care but for my sake, I'd like to do that."

Misha was controlling her laughter as she said, "Right now?"

"Mmm-hmmm," he nodded his head.

"Okay," she decided to play along. This ought to be interesting.

"You can open your eyes now," he told her.

When she opened her eyes she found him kneeling in front of her with a ring in his hand.

"Jack, what is-" she tried to say but he stopped her.

"Let me please," he pleaded. She nodded and he went on, "Misha whatever- your- middle- name- is Alau'din-"

"Iman," she interrupted him.

"What?"

"My middle name is Iman," she elaborated and he shrugged. "Whatever."

"Yeah, so would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked her and this time she couldn't hold her laughter anymore.

A frown crept on Jack's face. "What? You think this is funny?" he demanded, feeling very offended.

"What? NO!" she cried. After various attempts at composing herself (and finally succeeding) she said, "You look adorable!"

He continued to frown and she pulled him towards her. "Of course I'll marry you, you big, adorable dork," she said. "In fact, I am married to you."

He grinned, putting the ring on her ring finger and pulled her in for a kiss and for the first time, in a long time, Misha decided that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.


	4. Return To Normality

The next day- to Misha's immense satisfaction- was a Saturday and that meant one thing: no work. Which also translated to more time with Jack. Happily, she tried to get out of bed to make breakfast for her husband and herself. The keyword in the situation being tried.

Misha tried to get out of bed but found herself unable to do so. Why? Simple. Her over protective, just- proposed- last- night of a husband had her caught in an iron grip and refused to let her go without the risk of him waking up as well. She didn't want him to wake up so the task was proving to be ridiculously tedious. Jack had wrapped himself around such that her back was up against his chest and his arms firmly wrapped around her.

Basically there was no way around the inevitable.

Misha huffed before freeing her right arm and pinching Jack's nose. He woke up almost immediately.

"Ah, gu- what?" he asked her groggily.

"Lemme go," she told him. He frowned sleepily before realizing what she said.

"Oh yeah, sure," he said, letting her go and sitting up. He stretched a little and ran a hand through his hair as he watched her wear his t shirt. "Why'd you make me up so early?" he asked her, looking at the alarm clock on the side table. It read 08.11 AM.

"I didn't plan on it," she admitted, "but you- Jesus Christ, Jack! One would think I was running away or something. You had me in quite a grip."

He smiled sheepishly at that. "I just need some getting used to," he told her, "I kinda've missed you, ya know?"

"Aww, so sweet," Misha coeed, sitting next to him, leaning in to give him a peck on his cheek. Jack turned his head causing her to kiss him on the lips which she broke almost immediately.

"Eww, Jack I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!" she exclaimed, jumping off the bed.

He grinned. "I think we're way past that, darlin'."

"We are not past hygiene," she told him sternly and he dismissed the notion by the wave of his hand.

"Puh- lease."

"Truly," she said, "Now get up, I'm making breakfast."

Jack raised a brow. "Should I be worried?"

"What? No!" she countered, "I took cooking classes."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He stayed quiet for a moment and Misha wondered if he was about to say nice when- "Thank GOD. I swear if I had to have one more burnt pancake in my life, I'd gladly move back to Arkham."

"What?" Misha glared at him, throwing a pillow at him. Jack dodged laughing very loudly.

* * *

After breakfast, Misha announced that they would be going for shopping. Jack found the notion ridiculous.

"Why?" he asked her. "I mean, I have en…" his voice trailed off when he realized that yes, he did need shopping. He only had a couple of pairs of clothes, one of which was already in the laundry. "Fine, you win," he said, sullenly.

Misha grinned. "I always win, Jack Napier," she informed him dutifully. "Remember that."

"I will," he said though the smirk he wore told her that he was going to get back at her. Which she was okay with, she told herself. After all, what could Jack _possibly_ do?

 _Quite a lot,_ whispered her conscious.

Misha chose to ignore it.

And as usual, Jack came to the rescue, rescuing her from a horrible chain of thought. "So what's it going to be?" he asked her.

Misha turned to see him standing by the counter, a stance not dissimilar from the old days. Apparently some habits _did_ die hard. "Huh?"

"Do I wear makeup or…?" he let his voice trial off and Misha realized that he was conscious of his scars and was hoping that she had better ideas. She had none because, well, she didn't see anything wrong with them. After all, a lot of people had facial scars, some even had tattoos. How was he any different?

"No, why would you?" she asked, turning away from the washer.

Jack smiled a little guiltily. "In case I scare someone or-"

"Nope," Misha stopped him almost immediately, "You won't. You've got to prove to people that you're not him. You're just a normal guy with a scar, okay? Anyone in this town could get that. And you're no different than anyone else."

He smiled a little at that though he seemed looked unsure. "Well, okay," he said, walking up to her, "but I do hope I'm not that normal. After all, didn't you tell me that you didn't do normal?"

Misha glared at him.

And yes, he'd done the thing again.

He made her melt like a pile of mush.

And it hadn't even been a full forty eight hours yet.

"Well, that was a completely different conversation," she said, deciding that for once in her life she would not let Jack get to her that easily. Yet.

Jack grinned but said nothing to that. Instead, he continued to watch her as she did the kitchen chores. She had just finished when he said, "How come you never let me help out?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like, you're always doing all the cooking related stuff even though you sucked at it back then," he pointed out. "I mean, you've always made an effort to not let me do it even when you're tired."

She looked heavenwards.

"I like doing them," she said, "like, I dunno why- maybe I should let you. Would you like to do them?"

"It's not like I have anything better to do," he shrugged, "why not?"

She smiled a little at that. "Speaking of that," she began, "Have you thought about what you want to do now?"

It was his turn to look heavenwards in deep thought.

"Well," he wondered aloud, "I haven't really thought about it. I think I'll think about it."

"Yeah," she agreed. "You should do that."

* * *

He felt strange and she blamed herself for it.

When Misha had decided to take him on a shopping trip, she had not visualized the amount of stares they would be getting. It annoyed her, to say the least because everyone in this blasted city knew what had happened. So what if he was out? He was a normal person, he had to get on with his life at some point. Needless to say, she stayed strong at the face of it and carried out unfazed, behaving like she would normally do if people were not looking. That seemed to make Jack feel a little reassured and after sometime, he got out of his shell and started participating in the one sided conversation they were having.

When they were done, she suggested watching a movie.

"Only if it's a horror movie," he told her, lovingly as they walked towards the cinema together.

Misha grinned. "Of course, Jack. We'll watch a horror, happy?"

He nodded and they bought tickets to the chainsaw massacre documentary- much to the surprise (and horror) of the man behind the counter. He was shaking visibly but Jack didn't seem to notice and as she waited for the man to give her change, went away to buy popcorn.

The man took that was cue to speak to her.

"Why're you doing this?" he asked her, concern lacing his voice.

She frowned. "Huh?"

"You don't have to be with him, you know," he went on.

"Excuse me?"

"He seems normal enough, I'm sure the po-"

"He's my husband," she snapped, "I think I'd like to stay with him."

He shook his head before sighing. "You can't pretend that everything's normal, you know. Sooner or later, whatever he's done is gonna catch up with him and it'll be the Joker all over again."

"No it won't," she reassured the man, "I'll make sure of it."

And with that, she walked away.

The rest of evening wasn't so bad.

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed without much event peacefully. The inhabitants of their apartment block seemed to have taken Jack's arrival well because on Sunday evening they were invited to a community dinner. It wasn't much of formal event; just barbecue and things like that by the poolside. Since most of the residents of the block were working for Wayne Enterprises, they knew each other from social events too.

Misha decided that it was a good opportunity for Jack to familiarize with the kind of people he'd meet through her social circle. They met and greeted everyone and soon Misha was sitting with most of the female inhabitants. Jack had been engaged in conversation with the men but, in typical Jack fashion, had quickly gotten bored with the tedious topic of politics, finance and economics and resorted to entertain the many children of the neighbourhood.

At present, he was telling them a rather dramatic recollection of Little Red Riding Hood- or "Little Red", as he liked calling her.

"He's good with kids," one of the women, Sally from the apartment beneath theirs, observed.

Misha, who was taking a sip from her glass of lemonade, nodded. "Yeah, he's good with kids."

"Have you thought about having kids?" Alice, from across hallway, asked.

Misha felt herself blush a tad bit. Of course, she shouldn't be surprised, she reckoned, she had entered the married stage of her life. It was normal for people to ask, right?

"Once or twice," she replied truthfully. She had never really thought about children seriously. She'd assumed that she'd have a kid or two way, way in the future. She hadn't visualized the future to come so quickly though.

"A kid would do him well," Selma, another inhabitant of their block- the floor above theirs or above that, she wasn't sure- said. "I read the news report on his past. I think having kids would be great for both of you."

Misha smiled awkwardly as the conversation turned to children. She suddenly realized that this would happen in most gatherings and honestly, she didn't like the idea of being the youngest and most inexperienced in the happily married zone. Thankfully, Sally noticed how uncomfortable she was getting and chastised all of them.

"Oh god, just look at her," she told the ladies present, "don't overwhelm her already. I highly doubt they're out of the honeymoon phase yet. Give her some peace!"

That seemed to shut them up and the conversation took a different turn. Misha felt herself relax once more, happy with the little pool of content that her life had become. _Finally._


	5. Judgement

Bruce hid behind the dumpster in a dark, unoccupied alley waiting for the police cars to drive by, away from him without detecting him (because that was an issue now apparently and no, the irony was not lost to him) so he could get on with work. Work, which included keeping Gotham safe from the potential threats that lurked in the shadows of night.

Gordon had been trying to stage a few events so that it would look like Batman was a hero but so far, none of it had seized to better his image. Even though he had 'saved' people from a 'hostage' situation, many police men did fire at him because, well, he was the bad guy.

He sighed. He really should have thought it through- not that he was willing to put the blame on anyone else- though it had been tempting to let the Joker take the blame- but him because that _was_ the point of Batman wasn't it?

He was supposed to do what no one else could do as Batman.

Batman was not restricted by the bounds of society.

And that's what made him great.

So yeah, maybe he was willing- albeit not willing- to go ahead with what he had done.

And he had done something unthinkable.

He'd taken the blame for what Harvey Dent had done.

And he was also rambling at this point.

Bruce peaked around the corner to see that no one, and specially the police, was around. He walked out of the alley and made his way to the warehouse. He had started investigating a smuggling ring a while ago and he had an inkling th-

_"Master Wayne..."_

Alfred's voice rang into his head through the cordless earphones he had taken to wearing beneath his mask to stay in contact.

"What is it?" he asked him.

 _"The police seems to have gotten word of your presence,"_ he went on, _"and they're on their way. Covertly. The car that passed by you was a bait."_

Bruce gritted his teeth in irritation.

The police had also taken his arrest warrant seriously.

And that irritated him quite a lot.

If they spent the same amount of dedication to catch criminals the way they did to catch him, there would never be a need for Batman in the first place.

"Fine," he said, "I'm coming home."

And with that he turned around, abandoning his mission though he was a hundred percent sure that the warehouse on the far side of the docks was the place were the smugglers were hiding. If he had a few hours on him, he could have gotten them. Guess it was a job for another day.

It left a bitter feeling in his mouth though. Having to let such an opportunity slide by- an opportunity _this_ close too but he went ahead with Alfred's warning and turned back. He could not afford to be caught.

He had to keep an eye on Misha like he'd promised Jack to.

Speaking of that, he was supposed to pay him a visit to tell him that nothing was happening. He'd looked into the names of the villains he'd said names of but none had turned up. The Riddler was still in Arkham- at least, that's what he'd heard last. He'd actually been caught a few days after Jack had been released so that was not an issue.

He briefly wondered if-

"Hello Wayne," Misha interrupted his chain of thoughts.

Bruce frowned.

"You let her into the Bat cave?" he asked Alfred who was sitting on a chair near the computer system nearby.

"Yes," he said, "She keeps me company."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked her and Misha shrugged. "Jack has therapy right now and he told me that he'd come home by himself. His therapist thinks it'll be a good exercise for him- you know, getting a little independence and all."

Bruce nodded before walking away to get out of the Bat suit.

"And you're here because...?" he asked her.

"I was bored," she stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And since Alfred was bored too, I thought I'd give him company considering how that's the last thing that you plan on doing these days."

Alfred laughed at that but Bruce said nothing.

"I'm working, Misha," he told her.

"Obviously," she said. "You're a busy man Bruce Wayne. And I'm a busy girl."

She got up, picking up her bag and coat.

"You're leaving?"

"It's almost eight. Jack'll be home soon."

"But I just got back!" he exclaimed.

"Well, if you came earlier, you'd have more time with me," she said, "not you already don't. You're always at work and that's a little creepy."

With that and a quick good bye to Alfred, she was gone.

Bruce turned to Alfred.

"Really? I thought you said that telling people about the Bat Cave would make them a liability," he said.

"Miss Alau'din isn't a liability," the good man at the computer said, "besides, she does keep me company. Unlike you."

Bruce groaned.

He'd never hear the end of it now.

* * *

"Is there anything else that you'd like to say?" his therapist, Dr Camilla Abbott asked him.

Jack sighed, leaning into the soft leather seat of the settee placed besides Dr Abbot's armchair. Said lady was attentively writing on her writing pad.

"Not really," he mumbled. He was feeling uncomfortable, exposed as though the steely blue eyes of the good doctor could penetrate through his soul, look at every single crime he had ever committed and judge him for it.

"Alright then," she said, putting the pad away on the little coffee table between them, her glassed following suit. "You're good to go."

Jack stared at her in surprise. "What? But fifteen minutes are left!"

She smiled knowingly. "Yes, unless there's something you'd like to tell me."

Jack shook his head.

"Well, then, off you go now!" she stood up to get the door but Jack was up at about before she could.

"Let me," he said, opening the door himself.

Call him a sexist or whatever, but he felt really strange when a woman- make that an old woman- got up to open the door for him. It seemed wrong and the other way around and maybe it had something to do with the fact that she looked like his grandma- and yes, that was a first because he had not even known that he ever had a grandmother before he met the good lady.

She smiled at him sweetly and said, "Same time next week?"

"Of course, Doctor," he said, "uhh, good bye?"

She nodded and he walked out.

_Thank god._

If he had thought that the sessions at Arkham were grueling, sessions with Dr Abbott were worse. First of all, it was the fact that they had hired a senior citizen who probably knew of what he'd done and everything and the moral aspects of his actions which made him feel thoroughly ashamed of everything that the Joker had done- the stuff that he remembered and the stuff that he _didn't_ remember.

And then there was the fact that she was probably a hundred- okay, maybe forty or something- years older than him and he had never been around old people much to be comfortable.

And the third very obvious fact was that the people at Arkham had chosen someone who was the exact opposite of Harleen- or Harley, as he remembered her. Because that's what Dr Abbott was.

She had thick rimmed glasses- the old people kind because, _duh_ , she was _old_ \- and whispy, white hair and a face that showed that she had seen things and handled them well enough to make her one of the best in the field.

Of course, Harley had also been the best in the field and look how _that_ had turned out.

He had manipulated her, shocked her and then turned her into a monster. He'd enjoyed it too and even though the thought created a tight knot in his belly, there was no denying it.

The Joker was one sick bastard.

And he was worse for allowing him to hang around for as long as he did.

The staff had chosen his therapist very seriously though. He was so out of his comfort zone that he didn't think that he'd even try to manipulate the doctor if he wanted to. There was something in her eyes, something familiar yet so strong that he couldn't face her.

He couldn't lie to her but he was also uncomfortable about telling her stuff.

And she had picked up on that because she let him off.

He wondered what would happen next.

Would they change therapists?

But they wouldn't really be that much concerned about his preferences now would they?

Jack didn't know.

And he didn't really care either, he found.

He just wanted to be okay enough to stay with Misha.

He walked down the busy streets and spotted a florist's shop not far off. He decided to surprise her with a bouquet of flowers. She really liked roses.

He wondered if he ought to get something else as well.

Needless to say, still debating, he went to the shop and looked around for the flowers. They were out of roses, which was sad because he really wanted to give those to her. However, the florist was kind enough to direct him to another shop- a specialist store or something that sold roses as well.

Jack nodded, and went to the said shop where he got a bouquet of rather nice looking red roses. He was out of the shop and was about to go home when he realized that he was in an unfamiliar neighborhood altogether.

And then it occurred to him that he was lost. Feeling rather stupid, Jack tried to retrace his steps and walked around- looking for the right way home. In the end he gave up and decided to catch a cab.

And that's when something strange happened. None of the cabs he waved at stopped. It was incredibly baffling and he wondered why. Was there a different way of calling cabs now? Jack didn't know. He had not expected the world to change so much in a few short months.

He walked back to the shop and found that it had been closed in the span of twenty minutes since he'd left. Frowning, he looked around for someone to ask directions. In a distance, he spotted a couple walking. He called to them and they, too, upon seeing him turned the other way around and hurried away.

Jack couldn't understand what was happening an-

His eyes fell on his reflection in the window of flower shop.

_Oh._

At the very spot where he was standing was a man with a horrible scar across his face.

The Joker.

Everyone saw the Joker in him.

And no one wanted to associate themselves with the Joker, or even the man who used to be the Joker.

They would always judge him because of what he'd done as the Joker.

No matter what he did.


	6. Bittersweet

They changed his therapist.

And needless to say, Jack did not know how to react to it.

He was... _confused?_

He hadn't expected them to because honestly, why would they care about him?

He'd made everyone's life miserable in his reign as the Joker but clearly there were people in Arkham who actually cared about him. He did not know whether to take that as a compliment or not. He had time to reflect on it though when he walked home.

And yes, he was walking home because no one liked to give him a lift in their cab apparently.

It had been a full week since the incident and things had not changed.

He had hoped to confide in Misha when he got home but that never happened.

When he got home, frustrated and guilty as hell because honestly- why him? Why did he have to have a psychotic clown as an alter ego? He did know- he had wanted nothing more than his wife to be there, waiting for him.

But no.

That had not been the case.

Misha was not there.

The apartment they shared was empty.

It was then that he realized that he could communicate with her through his cell phone and when he did, she didn't pick up. Instead, there was a text waiting for him:

_**I need to stop by Bruce's.** _

_**xx** _

That had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Of course, she worked for the man and he was all about Misha pursuing her career but the fact remained: she probably saw Bruce Wayne more than she saw him. And even though he knew that she loved him wholly and completely and that there was nothing going on between her and Bruce, his dark, twisted mind kept suggesting him.

After all, wouldn't it be just like his luck?

His wife leaving him for another man.

Anything could happen.

He tried to shake the thought away but the damage was done.

He couldn't stand the idea of Bruce Wayne.

He'd never met the man though, he realized.

Of course, he'd met him as the Joker- he even crashed the man's party every now and then considering how Batman was probably one of the many, many billionaires the man knew but he'd never personally dealt with the man himself.

He did, however, know what kind of a man he was. He was apparently a playboy and fit the bill of a man who wouldn't mind making a pass at a married woman an-

Jack stopped his thoughts from running wild but nothing happened.

So, instead, he chose to focus on the situation at hand.

The new therapist, Dr What's-His-Face was looking at him, attentively.

He was expected to answer his question.

Jack took a deep breath.

_How was he feeling, really?_

He thought for a few moments before sighing.

He resorted to answering honestly. "Conflicted," he said, being as precise as he could be even though he could not quite define how he was actually feeling. Maybe sad. Or angry.

Somehow conflicted sounded like an understatement.

Maybe it was an understatement but honestly, did it matter?

He had to know if he could trust this guy first.

"In what sense?" asked the man.

Jack pretended to think hard when he was actually just really rolling his eyes internally.

He got what he did to Harley- he just did not get the reason why he had to be surrounded by old people.

Old people made him uncomfortable.

He ought to talk to Misha about it.

If she wanted to talk to him anyway.

"I don't see my wife often," he settled to answer, leaving all the gory bits, "I feel strange."

"Have you considered taking up any hobbies?"

He said nothing but he did wonder why he hadn't.

 _Oh yeah,_ he remembered with a groan, _his hobbies included killing people and blowing up stuff for fun. Up until now anyway._

"Hobbies don't go well with me," he told him.

The therapist nodded and wrote something in his notebook.

Jack looked heavenwards.

"How about something less violent?"

He met the therapist's gaze to see that the man was looking _very_ amused.

_Okay, so maybe he knew what he was supposed to do._

"I wouldn't know what to do," he shrugged.

"Very well," he said, and that exact moment the clock chimed six thirty. And that was another thing that had happened. They'd reduced his therapy session timings to a half an hour.

He really didn't know what they were playing it.

It made him... _disoriented._

He muttered a good bye and walked out of his office towards home.

The new therapy session- practise thing was closer to home so he could walk home if he wanted.

He usually did because Misha was never home on time- usually stopping at Bruce's or working late.

He didn't like it, he realized.

He didn't like how his life was turning out.

It was so... _empty._

He hadn't thought life with Misha would be like this.

Honestly, he'd thought it would be more fulfilling an-

_**HONK!** _

The sound of a car horn made him turn around, startled, alarmed even because who would-

_Oh._

He smiled a little, trying to look cheerful as he sat in the passenger seat.

Misha was grinning at him.

"How was therapy?" she asked him, kissing him on the cheek.

"It was okay," he mumbled.

"The new therapist?"

"Is alright."

"You comfortable?"

"What?"

"Are you okay with it?" she elaborated.

He shrugged.

"I dunno."

"Jack."

"Misha."

They shared a smile and Misha drove them home.

* * *

At home, they ordered take out. To Misha, he was quiet and that was unsettling. Usually, he was very talkative, always telling her something new or interesting about his day.

"Jack, is everything alright?" she asked him suddenly- if she said so herself- over a dinner of Thai food.

Jack looked up from his meal, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Huh?" he asked, looking rather surprised.

"Is everything alright?" she repeated her question.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're not talking to me," she stated.

Jack smirked cynically at that. "What can I talk about?" he asked her, "There's nothing to talk about."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't noticed have you?" he went on to say bitterly.

"What?"

"Incredible," he stated before going back to the meal.

Misha found that incredibly offensive.

"Jack," she said, "what's wrong?"

He ignored her.

That further unsettled her.

After dinner, she tried talking to him but he remained stagnant. Instead, he chose to focus on his book, the same old copy of The Prince which he had probably read a million times by now.

She decided to let him be for the time being but when he refused to speak to her the next morning as well, she knew she had to do something.

So going old school, she resorted to the same treatment of Jack which she had often done so in the past.

She waited for him to go to their bedroom and that's when she made her move. She took his book and hid it along with his mobile phone and sketch book so that he would have nothing to do and would, therefore, be obliged to speak to her.

It worked.

Just not the way she would have liked it to.

"What is your problem?" he snapped.

"Huh?"

"Why can't you just leave me alone for once?"

"Jack, what is wrong with you?" she began but he interrupted her.

"You! Why can't you just do what you're told?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped back, not willing to let him let her down like that.

"Just leave me alone," he said and that's when she realized it.

Their relationship was in jeopardy.

* * *

She had only felt it once before. Back when Jack started operating as the Joker again and god knows the trauma and stress and all that nonsense that she had coped with for months because of that. There was no way that she was willing to live through it again. She wanted to talk to Jack but he didn't want to talk to her.

Which brought her to the obvious conclusion: Maybe she had done something wrong.

And obviously because she couldn't identify it, she picked up her phone and called someone she hadn't spoken to in a long time.

Iona.

 _"Wow, someone's been dead and in the headlines for how long,"_ her old friend quipped once she'd picked up the phone.

Misha smiled. "Well, I apologize for not calling sooner."

 _"Eh, save your apologies for someone who's willing to take 'em,"_ came the response. " _What's up? How's Jack?"_

The smile fell. "Yeah, about him..."

_"What did you two crazy kids do now? I'm listening..."_

She did.

And her advice was almost impossible.

Nonetheless, she was willing to try it out.

The weekends had become her favourite days of the week ever since Jack had been realized because they gave her something to look forward to. That being said, Misha often tried to stay happy and as enthusiastic as possible to whatever it was that Jack wanted to do.

Of course, right now there was nothing that he wanted to do. In fact, he was camped out in the guest room and as annoying as she found the notion to be, she was respecting his privacy and giving him space. Even if she didn't want to do that.

But back to Iona's advise- Misha was to not attempt to talk to him unless he wanted to. So the next day, she made breakfast- didn't bother calling him since according to the guru herself, "He's supposed to do that!"

She waited for him though but when he didn't show up, decided to eat her breakfast because she had actually worked hard on the waffles she'd made. Somewhere through the meal, he did show up and as per the norm of the last few hours, did not speak to her.

The same thing happened at lunch.

And dinner.

And then after dinner.

And that was when Misha realized that Iona was a crap romance guru and that she would suffocate in the silence.

So for once she did what her heart told her to do and not her brain.

She went to Jack and started pestering him.

"Jack," she said, sitting right in front of him on the bed so he would have to look at her even though he wasn't because he was reading the damned book.

He said nothing.

She let him be but after a few minutes realized that he was not reading the book. He was just... staring at him.

"Jack," she repeated, a little softly, scooting closer. And then she panicked. And got worried.

"Jack, did I do something?" she asked him. "I mean, I must have done something to make you so angry at me. Please tell me what's wrong."

He wasn't listening.

She ran a hand through her hair.

"Jack, please talk to me," she pleaded, "I don't know what I've done. Tell me what I've done. Or I'll- or I'll... I don't know what I'll do!"

Still no reply.

"Jack, look at me," she said a little firmly, cupping his face so he would look at her.

And when he did, it nearly broke her heart.

If she thought she was worried or stressed out with what was happening, Jack was worse. He looked miserable and... well, that's all it took for her to realize exactly what was wrong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, suddenly panicking.

"It's alright," his response was curt.

"No, I should've- Bruce even suggested-" she stopped when she saw the change in his demeanour at the mention of his name. Now she was really panicking.

What did that say about them?

More importantly, _what did he think of her and Bruce's relationship?_

"Jack, let's talk about this," she said to him.

"I don't want to talk about anything right now," he said.

"But we should," she insisted, "we need to talk. We've always-"

"We always _used to_ talk," he corrected her sharply.

She visibly flinched at that.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, "I got carried away with work. I have no real excuse but can't we fix this? We've always had. Don't make me feel-"

"And what about how I feel?" he asked her. "Do you take that into consideration?"

"I want to," she said, "We can talk about it. Jack, we're having problems and it's really my fault but don't be like this."

He looked at her hard, as though he was considering something before nodding slowly. "I'll try but you'll have to as well."

She started to nod but he didn't exactly give her chance because the next thing he did was kiss her.

And it did break her heart because her worst fear was realized: For the second time round, he needed her and she wasn't there for him.


	7. Chaos

 

 

 

The citizens of Gotham were glad to say that after a reign of terror under the Joker, the city was finally at peace. Of course, there was the odd bank robbery here or the tragic murder there but this was Gotham and even though all those crimes were horrible, at least they were done by some professional or amateur lowlife rather than the psychotic clown who did it for the sake of it.

The police was taking care of most of the crimes now.

They were still looking for Batman though, the controversial hero turned baddie who had- for reasons unknown to the citizens of the city- killed their white knight.

Needless to say, the city was relatively safe.

Safer than it had been in month.

_Still,_ the press would argue a few hours later, _the Joker was on the streets, resident villain, Batman was out too so why were there not sufficient security in the city?_

For one fine Monday morning, as the citizens of Gotham went about their business, they heard an uncanny, unnatural and utterly horrifying- not to mention ear splitting- booming noise.

You know, the trade building that was made as an imitation of the trade towers that were bombed in 9/11?

Yes, some genius- or rather, loony- blew that up.

Gotham was having its own 9/11 on July 18th. 7/18.

Granted, even though the press and mass media was quick to call it so, the damage done wasn't nearly comparable.

For one thing, the trade building was smaller than the twin towers.

For another, well, not much damage was done to life or property.

It still packed a punch when one looked out of their workplace window see a giant plant growing around the building.

Oh yes, the famous Poison Ivy had struck- apparently, she'd escaped from Arkham.

Really, one would think that those doctors would do a better job taking care of their patient.

And after so much of taxpayers' money going into that too.

It was a disgrace.

But she was not the only one.

Her best friend in crime- and yes, the Joker's sidekick at one point in time- Harley Quinn had also escaped.

Needless to say, Gotham was on its knees even though it was not begging for peace just yet.

It was just shocked, that's all.

* * *

Despite of the kind of lifestyles she had lived over the course of her twenty four years, there were only a few moments in her entire- a handful of moments at that- existence which rendered Misha as assumed as she was at the moment.

If she had been concerned about her marriage. Well, she need not be no more.

For one thing, her dear husband was watching the television intently- probably with the most concentration she'd ever seen him watch it- what with his eyes wide and that slight frown and mouth a jar combo he was sporting.

It helped that Jack was still in his in nightwear, his hair all messed up and that was the moment Misha realized that she loved his bed head.

She didn't know what was on though.

Ever since the attack on the trade building or something by Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn a couple of days ago, all Jack did was watch the telly.

When he wasn't busy shagging her, that is.

Oh yes, all their relationship needed was his crazy ex-girlfriend, she decided.

Though, she did not know how she felt about said ex-girlfriend.

Misha chose to ignore that tiny detail about the infamous Harley Quinn.

Besides, according to Bruce, they were not much of a threat.

They were C class criminals.

She had not known that Bruce had a class for criminals either.

But he did and she found out yesterday.

Apparently her husband was an "A" class criminal.

She did not know whether to feel proud of that or not.

Misha chose the latter.

But still.

As much as she liked this new second honeymoon stage of their marriage, she decided that she would like a little normality too.

Jack was being silly and paranoid.

He would not let her leave the house unaccompanied and it was cute because she'd been on a break (something to do with Easter. She had long accepted that Bruce liked to give her random breaks in the middle of the year and had learned to be adapt to them) but she would not stand it if he stopped her from going to work.

And yes, she knew that she maybe a workaholic but Jack was freaking paranoid so it was only fair.

"Jack," she said after an internal debate over the issue.

Said offender looked up, startled- but Misha was determined to overlook that detail- and then seeing her assemble, frowned. "Wh- where you going?"

"Work," she stated as casually as possible.

The frown deepened.

_That was not a good sign._

"Do you have to?" he asked her in a childlike voice and Misha felt her heart melt.

"Yeah," she said, sitting next to him on the couch. At least he was not looking at the damned telly anymore. "I don't exactly have a choice," she joked but stopped when she noticed that he did not smile with her.

_Definitely not a good sign._

"Can't you extend your break?" he asked her. "Until ya' know, she gets caught?"

"I would if I could," she answered slowly, "but you know I can't."

He looked uncertain.

"Okay," he said, "On one condition..."

* * *

"I can't believe we're back to this," she grumbled as she settled into the passenger seat.

"Back to what?" her husband asked her as he steered the car out of the boundary of their apartment block.

"This," she gestured, extending her hands in front of her, "This is just like uni all over again. Only this time, you're literally dropping me off to work!"

Jack said nothing to that. Just grinned at her boyishly.

Misha narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?"

"Don't do that," she warned.

"Do what?"

"Look all adorable and innocent. We both you're not that."

"Ah, touche."

"Fuck you."

"We both know you'd do it."

Misha narrowed her eyes even more until they were mere slits.

"You know one of these days I'm gonna get back at you Jack," she told in a sickly sweet voice.

Jack's grin increased at that.

"Of course you will darlin'," he agreed, "I look forward to it."

Luckily for Misha, Wayne Enterprises came into view.

"I'll see you home tonight?" she asked him, well aware of the fact that he liked to wander around where ever he went after his therapy sessions. Of course he had not been doing that for the past few days since the Harley Quinn scene but she had been home so she'd reckoned that he had changed his schedule to accommodate hers. Guess he would go back to the normal routine again?

"Of course you will, Misha, I'll pick you up," he responded.

Misha raised a brow.

"What?"

"I can pick my wife up from work now, can't I?"

"What are you playing at?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said a bit too quickly for her liking.

Misha looked heavenwards before sighing.

"Jack, is there something you need to tell me?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Okay, good bye then."

"Bye bye," he murmured before planting a lingering, longing kiss on her lips. He did not stop and it was Misha who had to break the kiss.

"Let's continue this tonight, yeah?" she said to him.

Jack grinned wolfishly.

_Oh yes, whoever this Harley Quinn was, bless her. She'd unknowingly helped her save her marriage._


	8. Dreams From A Life Past

_"Yes, ah, anything you want Harley!" he whispered seductively as the psychiatrist giggled. It was really easy- just a little manipulation and BAM! Dr Harleen Quinzel or Harley Quinn as he liked to call her, was under his spell. He snickered- not really worried about what she thought. For all she knew, he was probably laughing along with her._

_Internally he rolled his eyes at how stupid she was being. What with her PhD in Psychology, one would imagine her to be tiny bit more smart. It was that or he was just awesome._

_He chose to believe the latter._

_He was the agent of chaos, a lone vigilant, an advocate of evil, the child of death, destruction and disaster._

_He was the Joker._

_"And I'm going to get out soon..." he smirked._

_It was only a matter of time after all."_

Jack's eyes snapped open, as he jolted up. He breathed unsteadily, his heart beating unsteadily. Finally after accessing his surroundings, he relaxed back into bed. He let out a deep sigh.

It was alright.

He was at home.

With Misha.

Everything was fine.

He could go back to sleep.

With that thought, he closed his eyes but sleep had left him.

He turned to his side and then back but found himself unable to sleep. He huddled close to Misha, hoping her presence would soothe his conscious but nothing.

He reckoned he was still shaken by the dream. _But it was not a dream,_ he reminded himself bitterly, _was it? It was a memory._

A memory as the _Joker._

He shuddered in disgust.

What had been wrong with him?

How could he be so, so insane?

_Oh, I think I know how,_ he thought. _Jeannie's death. That was the trigger. I was always already insane._

He shuddered at the thought and realizing that he probably would not get any more sleep got out of bed and made his way towards the balcony. The cold silence of night have always comforted him but right now, it was almost... _haunting._

He could see the distant glow of the Gotham night life which told him that there were still people outside who were awake like him and that really, there was nothing to be afraid of and yet, he felt uncomfortable.

He had a strange, yet distinct feeling that someone was watching him.

Someone standing right behind him in the shadows who he could- would not, allow to enter his home.

Jack turned around to see a familiar sight. The red and black jester costume, the Joker-inspired face paint. Harley Quinn was standing behind him, grinning wildly.

He took a step backwards and she reciprocated by taking on forward.

"My, my, Mr J, you sure got yourself set up here," she mused, "got the authorities and everythin' fooled, ya know. They think you've turned but I know you." She took a step forward. "It's just an elaborate prank ain't it, puddin'?"

"No," he answered moving away but the balcony was only so large and he felt his back hit the railings.

Harley frowned. "Not a prank?" she asked, almost hurt.

"No," he repeated all his bravery melting away. He'd always thought that he could take Harley- beat her at her own game but he had always been a mad man when he thought that. It had never occurred to him how crazy Harley really was but then again, he'd never thought that he was bat shit (no pun intended) crazy but turns out, he was.

But that was him rambling.

Jack focused on the situation.

And the situation did not look good.

Harley continued to frown. "So a _girl_ really managed to change ya?" she questioned him, looking very disturbed.

Jack didn't answer the question and frankly, he didn't need to. He, however, needed to get inside and call the police. Who knew what Harley could do?

"Oh, she's gotta be somethin'," Harley went on, "to change ** _my_** Mr J like that. I think I'll pay her a visit. Wanna talk to her-"

"You will do no such thing," he found himself saying rather firmly against his better judgement. By all means, he ought to be trying to calm her, get out of their house not make her angry by defying. What was wrong with him?

Harley's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah, whatchya gonna do 'bout it? You're not as smart as my Mr J."

"I don't need to be the Joker to stop you Harley," he warned her, "Stay away from my family."

Her grin returned. "Okay," she said turning to leaving by climbing over the railings. Jack had no idea how she was going to do that since there was a twenty nine feet drop but honestly, she could die for all he cared.

She just had to stay away from Misha.

"Ya know," she told him, "you might not be him but you've still got potential."

It was his turn to frown. "...what?"

She replied by blowing him a case and quite literally jumping off his balcony.

Jack sprinted inside and made a mental note to keep the balcony, windows and doors locked at all times.

* * *

The latest case of Jack paranoia occurred on a Wednesday morning, Misha was quick to notice when Jack refused to have breakfast in the balcony like they usually did. She didn't press the matter and instead chose to listen to him. The matter, however, was not forgotten by her.

And it was bothering her.

So much so that she couldn't concentrate on work.

In the end, she decided to confide in Bruce because:

(A) He was sort of like the only person she could talk to about these things, and

(B) He had nothing better to do except for, well, pacing around the length of his office so he might as well just make himself useless.

"He's getting worse," she told him when they settled for lunch. When she invited Bruce for the talk, he pointed out that it was almost lunch break and then without further due, had placed reservations for them at this one restaurant where they went for an early lunch.

Misha didn't know how she felt about it particularly since there was a lot of paparazzi in this one particular restaurant.

"Jack?" Bruce asked as he dug into his meal.

"Who else could it be?" she countered a little annoyed at his indifference.

"I don't know," he joked, "could be your kid or something."

"Bruce!" she cried. "Not you too!" Lately a lot of people she knew were hinting at her and Jack having a child. She hadn't expected playboy Bruce to do that as well. But then, it could have been Alfred's influence for all she knew. For now, she simply huffed and Bruce chuckled.

"Ah, sorry. Couldn't help it. You were saying?"

"He won't leave me alone, he won't have breakfast in the balcony and he's locking up all the windows and that's just annoying," she told him.

"You do know that Harley Quinn is technically his ex girl friend right?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Maybe he knows that she's literally the definition of the psychotic ex girl friend and wants to keep you away from her," he hypothesised.

"Oh," Misha stated simply. She had never thought of it that. "Well. Okay. That's strange."

Bruce smiled. "Believe me it's not. Just give the guy some room and let him do what he's doing. Your his wife not his mother."

Misha narrowed her eyes. "I do not act like his mother."

Bruce held up his hands in surrender. "You said it, not me."

She glared at him and he laughed.

They carried on their meal in silence.

* * *

She decided to do something special that night to keep Jack's mind off things. He was currently taking a nap in their room and she found that particularly adorable since, well, he had a bunch of books around him telling her that he'd fallen asleep studying.

That was the one positive thing Jack had been doing lately.

He'd told her that he wanted to go back to college and was doing his research on which course to take. He was stuck somewhere between Literature and Chemistry- two completely different subjects but it highlighted how his interests ranged over a number of subjects.

She personally hoped he would pick Literature so that he could read her poems. She liked listening to him speak in general. It soothed her.

She hummed to herself as she carried on with her work. She'd picked up a new recipe from the cooking club she took classes from and wanted Jack to tell her what she thought about it.

She was almost done with everything when she heard her husband scream.


	9. Hopes

She would be a liar if she said that she hadn't nearly just jumped out of her own skin. Her heart beat accelerated by the speed of light and Misha ran towards her bedroom. Everything around her seemed to be happening very, very slowly. Nothing was fast enough. Her legs felt like jelly and it occurred to Misha that this might be the most exercise she'd had in days.

I need to join that yoga group again, she found herself thinking.

Given any other situation, the evidence of how random she was would have laughed but the fact that Jack was probably in danger stopped her.

The first thing that came to her mind was Harley Quinn.

Bruce hadn't given her any importance but Alfred had cautioned her to expect her husband's crazy ex to be out to get him because well, he was not The Joker anymore.

She didn't know what to expect.

Honestly, she was expecting Harley Quinn to be there, trying to kill Jack.

What she saw, however, was completely different from the violent scenarios in her brain.

Jack was awake, yes, but he seemed to be settling back into bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked him as she entered their bedroom.

Jack frowned. "Yes, why?"

"I heard you scream," Misha said after a moment of silence. Since when did Jack shrug off things like bad dreams? _Hadn't he once demanded Batman to appear-_ and yes, she'd managed to coax that one out of Bruce some time last week- _because of a dream?_

It was strange, to put it mildly.

Jack shook his head dismissively.

"It's nothing," he said.

Misha sat beside him. "Did you have a bad dream again?" she asked him very, very slowly.

Jack sighed before looking heavenwards.

"It's nothing," he repeated.

"It's got to be something," she told him, "you yelled kind of loudly. I got scared. What's up?"

"It wasn't supposed to be..." his voice trialled off.

"Jack, you can tell me."

"I know, I just don't want you to worry," he admitted.

"Is it something I should be worried about?" she asked him.

"No, I just-" He paused. "I've been having these weird dreams lately. It stopped when I left Arkham but ever since Harley got out of prison, it's been recurring."

"What's the dream about?" Misha asked.

"I keep dreaming that people the Joker swindled are coming after me," he told her.

"Oh," she said though that her thinking. She'd once read a book about how dreams were often premonitions of what could happen. Of course the idea itself was rather ridiculous- after all, if things worked that way, _everyone_ would be a psychic.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah," Jack replied, "that's it." He looked around before yawning. "So," he asked, "What've you been up to?"

* * *

"I don't like what's happening," Misha said to Bruce the following workday.

"So even you think that Alden O'Connor shouldn't be removed," Bruce agreed, "I think so to. Do you want to talk to Charlie about that? I say we kick him out and convince Dan to come in. What do you say?"

Misha rolled her eyes. "I'm not talking about that, Bruce," she said, "though I do think that we should kick Charlie out. He's a nuisance to deal with."

Bruce grinned. "On it," he said before hanging up the phone.

Misha sighed before sliding her phone back into her bag and walking inside Wayne Enterprises. She was only past the reception area when she heard Charlie Bate's frustrated _\- and angry-_ growl.

 _"Fifteen years Wayne!"_ he was shouting as security took him out. _"Fifteen years I put in this bloody hell hole! I'm so happy I helped the Cruises'! Fucking wasted my time here!"_

Misha walked up to where Bruce was standing.

"Oh dear," she said, "he didn't take that well."

"He committed fraud too," he informed her, "We're going to see him in court soon. Make a note about that."

Misha nodded before getting on her tablet.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked her.

". _..uhh, yes?"_

"Want a coffee?"

"God, yes."

"Okay. Come on."

 

* * *

 

 

_"And in the news, Bruce Wayne was spotted with his gorgeous- yet controversial- secretary, Misha Alau'din-Napier at high end cafe, Caramel Company. Wayne frequently visits..."_

His therapist, a much older man (though not as old as his previous therapist) named Dr Henry Abbott switched off the television. Jack sighed.

"You don't feel jealous at all you say," he went on, writing something onto his note pad.

"Yes," he replied, "we've talked about it. There's nothing. Wayne's getting over the death of his best friend and Misha's sort of the replacement. She told me."

"But Bruce wouldn't tell anyone that now would he?"

"No," Jack replied, "Misha's close to his butler, Alfred. He told her that."

"And does Misha trust this man?"

"Yeah, she does," he answered.

"And what about you?"

"I haven't met him yet. The only time I came into contact with him was as the Joker so I don't remember much of it. He's nice though. Sends me things I like when Misha isn't around."

"So he's like a father figure?"

"I'd say," he responded. Jack watched him write that down in his note pad.

"Pardon me Doctor," he went on, "but how is this related to my therapy?"

"I'm accessing your surroundings," he informed him, "if there's anything that makes you uncomfortable, anything you don't like- I need to know. You know, to see that it doesn't hinder your progress."

"Ah," Jack nodded. "My old therapists never did that."

"They were merely considering that you had a dual personality disorder," he went on, "I think it's more complex than that. If it was something as simple as that, the Joker would have been back in no time."

Jack visibly paled. "You think the Joker can come back?"

"Oh no, on the contrary, I believe you can control the Joker. You can make him come back," he said, "you just don't know how."

"Well, that's problem than isn't it?" Jack asked him.

"Not really, imagine if you learned to control the Joker. He's feared by criminals. You could turn this city around. You could be the mole in the criminal system and put an end to all the crimes in Gotham."

"That sounds incredible."

"It can be done."

"Really?" Jack questioned. "How?"

"It'll be difficult," the doctor admitted.

"I don't care," Jack was quick to say. After all, how could he bring himself to care? To him, it seemed like a way to redeem himself. Undo all the wrong he'd done. It was like a golden opportunity had been given to him and he was willing to go through it.

"Okay then," the good doctor went on, "I can add an additional hour to your weekly visits and we'll see."

Jack nodded, smiling.

His chance had finally come. Gotham would see that he wasn't just some mad man. He was more than that. Better than that.

 

* * *

 

 

Once seated, Bruce turned his attention back to her.

"You were saying something?"

Misha raised a brow. "What?"

"Earlier today, you said something wasn't right."

"Oh yeah," she said, "Jack. Something's up."

Bruce sighed. "You know I really think you need a distraction."

Misha frowned. "Huh?"

"You're always worrying about him. He's your husband, Misha."

"That's exactly why I should be worrying about him," she answered immediately.

"Okay, before we proceed- can I say that you're a control freak?"

"Coming from another control freak, I'd take it," she retorted.

Bruce smiled. "Okay, now what's the problem?"

"He's having those dreams again," she told him.

"The ones he called me for?"

"Yes."

He thought for a few minutes. "You think it's got something to do with what's happening?"

"Yes, because it stopped after he left Arkham."

"Hmm," Bruce pondered for a few minutes, "something's happening- you think so. I think so. Wanna get Alfred's opinion on this?"

"Yes, of course."

"Seems like we won't get anything done today after all," Bruce stated as he punched Alfred's number on his phone.


	10. Old Faces

He would normally feel guilty keeping things from Misha but given the extensive gravity and possible repercussions of the idea, Jack decided to keep it from her. After all, Dr Abbott was helping him control the Joker. Given Misha's experience with the Joker, he knew for a fact that she would not like his plan at all. She'd hate it and possibly contact someone from Arkham and get his therapist changed. And considering how Dr Abbott was the only therapist he'd ever liked in his entire life because, well, the man didn't treat him like shit and a freak that ought to be locked up.

And since he knew how limited those kinds of people were, Jack could- _**would** _ not allow for such a thing to happen to him.

He liked to think that Dr Abbott and he had an understanding on a completely different scale.

And for all intents and purposes, it was true.

Dr Abbott understood that containing the Joker wouldn't do; they had to learn how to _control_ him.

It was that simple.

And the only way he'd achieve the normal-life-with-Misha status he'd been wanting to achieve for a while now.

Because unlike what the good doctor wanted, he would not be using the Joker persona to help solve crime.

He'd only do it if the situation was really, really dire.

He just wanted to be normal.

So when, one afternoon, he walked into therapy, he didn't hesitate to find that Dr Abbott had set up some weird looking, brain related-given the strange helmet anyway- contraption. They'd had a few sessions where they'd tried to bring out- and **_control_** , the good doctor would carefully point out- the Joker but had failed.

Jack wondered if this was a way to do it.

"What's this?" he voiced his question as he settled into his designated seat for the session.

"Just a little something to give it a boost," Dr Abbott replied.

Jack shrugged and let him hook up the device and they began their session.

"Now, I'm going to ask you some tough questions," he told him, "you don't have to answer them but you have to visualize the scenario. I want you to look at the situation from your perspective- how you felt at that moment, why, why the other person was wrong, why you were right and things like that, okay?"

Jack nodded.

"Good, now remember- we're trying to trigger the Joker okay? I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything," he went on.

"Got it doc."

"Okay, now I want to you to think about those ferries you try to blow up."

Jack shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"I want you to think about the excitement, the euphoria you felt when you had the fate of the lives of hundreds of people resting in your hand. I want to picture it vividly. Think about the sounds- everything."

Jack nodded, closing his eyes shut even though it was hard- really hard to imagine why he would want to do something of the sort.

A moment later he opened them. "I can't," he said, "it just won't come to me."

The doctor sighed, clearly disappointed. "Feel the heat of the moment. Visualise why you were right and how angry you felt. We're going to try this again okay?"

He nodded once more.

"Okay, now I want to you to think about your first victim."

Jack shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"I want you to imagine how it happened, why you thought it was right. I want you to focus, relive the moment and imagine the Joker taking controlling over you at the very instant you picked up the weapon..."

 

* * *

 

 

Misha was angry.

To put it mildly.

She was angry at Bruce. She was angry at his plan. She was angry at the power he had. _And_ she was angry at Alfred for telling her so late.

"But you can't do that you ass hole," she made it a point to say as she entered the not-so-much Bat cave, "He's a living person who deserves privacy."

Bruce looked up from the system he and Lucius Fox had set up that could hack into and show them live feed of the surveillance cameras, phones and things of the sort of all and around the places that Jack frequented.

"That's violation of human rights!"

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"And that is exaggeration at its finest," he stated, "We're just keeping a tab of the people he's coming into contact with. In case the Riddler or Penguin are supplying him with drugs directly or indirectly- _most likely indirectly,_ " he added quickly when he saw the glare Misha gave him, "which may be causing hallucinations."

"So you think he's crazy?" she asked him.

"There's a possibility that he's dealing with PTSD," he elaborated.

Misha frowned. "Why would he have PTSD a million years later?"

"Different people have different rates at which they go through it."

"You just made that up didn't you?" she questioned him and he smiled.

"Maybe."

"Fuck you Wayne."

"Duly noted."

Misha chose to ignore him for the rest of the day after that.

And Bruce, being Bruce, couldn't live with that for long.

"Oh come on," he argued a few hours- three, to be precise- later. "It's for his own good. You should be thanking me."

Misha rolled her eyes but said nothing as she went about her multiple tasks.

"So that's how it's going to be between us," he said, "no communication. The silence treatment. Real mature."

Still no response.

Bruce raked his brain for something, anything to catch her attention and get her to talking with him when-

"So I guess you don't want to know that we hired your long time no see-esque best friend down at IT," he mused slowly.

That made her stop. "Which friend?" she asked almost immediately.

Both she and Bruce knew that she didn't have many friends. _So what was he implying...?_

"Oh I dunno," he went on, "Just someone with a strange name. I never there were names with the letter 'I'. She's rather talkative if you ask me but the head of IT thought that her charisma would take her places and..."

"Iona!?" she blurted. "You hired Iona and you didn't tell me!"

Bruce grinned. "Might've slipped my mind," he added coolly.

Misha rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna take a break," she told him, "and since it's almost lunch time, I think I should. I'm taking Iona with me."

"Okay," he said, "but bring her back soon. I don't want you slacking off now that you have a friend here."

Misha mouthed a "yeah right" as she walked out of the door.

The IT department was a couple of floors down so she opted to take the stairs. She also needed to burn off any adrenaline in case she got nervous. She'd lost touch with Iona shortly before graduation. She didn't know what had become of her chirpy friend at all.

After the thing with Jack, she'd dedicated her life to work and Arkham and things related to Jack in general.

She wondered if Iona would be angry at her. She also wondered if her friend was still the same. It had been roughly two years and even though people didn't normally change so drastically over a year or even two- who knew? After all, she'd changed _a lot_ in a few years. It could be the same for Iona.

With that in mind, Misha cautiously approached IT. Unlike the legal and public relations departments which she often ventured into, IT had a much friendly, carefree environment. There weren't cubicles and traditional offices. Instead, there were booths and stations and couches and things like that so that people could relax and get on with their work.

It seemed really strange to Misha who was used to the traditional style of working. It was no wonder, she decided, that she never came down to IT.

Still, she had one task to do today and that was to look for Iona. It wasn't too hard to find her though. Iona was on one of the couches typing away on a laptop. She was resting her feet on the coffee table in front and had a bag of chips with her.

That made Misha feel a little less nervous. After all, if Iona's sitting habits hadn't changed, maybe there was a chance that she hadn't changed much either?

"Iona?" she asked, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. _What if she didn't want to speak to her?_

Her friend looked up, clearly alarmed at someone calling her name and almost jumped out of her seat when she saw her.

"Misha!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed. "What're you doing here?"

Misha grinned, responding to the hug she gave her. "I work here."

Iona did a quick look over of her attire and rose an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," she said, realizing that she was probably confused because she was dressed casually (like most of the IT people) while Misha was sporting a proper business attire what with her work appropriate heels and shirt and dress pants, "there are other departments here too."

"There are?" Iona said before promptly smacking her forehead with her hand, "well, duh- it's a huge building. Which department?"

"The department of Babysitting Bruce Wayne," she said in an attempt to downplay the importance of her role.

Iona's jaw dropped. "No freaking way," she gasped, "you're his secretary or something?"

"Yup," she replied.

"That is so cool!" she gushed. "Wow- wait till Carlisle hears about this! Our little awkward Misha managing THE Bruce Wayne."

Misha felt herself blush. "Oh shut up you," she said, "how's Carlisle?"

"Fine," Iona went on,"he's working on getting his masters. Wants to do a PhD in maths. How weird is that?"

"Maths and Carlisle- when did that happen?" Misha asked her.

"It's a long story," she said.

"And we have plenty of time," Misha informed her.

Iona frowned.

"I told Bruce I'd be stealing you from IT for lunch," she told her.

Iona's face broke off into a grin. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Calling in favours from Wayne- come on let's go!"

 

* * *

 

 

_It was a bad day._

_Not that most days were any better for him._

_But it was a particularly bad one since he'd not only failled a quiz worth twenty percent of his grade- not that it mattered much anyway- but also had gotten detention for not paying attention in class (why would anyone even pay attention in History of all classes was beyond him. He'd assumed that the teacher, being influenced by the other teachers, hated him as well) and had fallen prey to Joey and his gang who demanded that he give up his lunch money (he didn't have any like most days but really, who could explain that Joey and his peanut sized brain which refused to process the simple information that Jack had no money on him whatsoever?) which of course led to 'punishment'. Joey and his brainless followers locked him in the storage shed in the basketball court and it wasn't until five hours later that the janitor found him there._

_It was dark by the time he'd gotten dark._

_And that filled him with dread._

_His father would be home by the time he'd get home and he would **not** be pleased._

_Jack mentally prepared himself for more punishment which wasn't even fair since, well, it hadn't been his fault._

_If stupid Joey and his 'friends' hadn't picked on him, he'd be home much earlier and probably locked away in his room by now._

_But no one would believe him of course._

_His father would think that he was out prancing about, doing something illegal and squandering away his hard earned cash- which honestly Jack and his mother never got to see because, well, his dad was an alcoholic._

_Not that anyone would acknowledge that._

_They didn't talk about the vices of his father at home._

_They only bore the brunt of it._

_It made him feel sick._

_But there was no one to speak to about it and frankly, his mother was too scared of his father to try to do something._

_Jack ran home as quickly as his legs could carry him._

_From the outside, his house seemed like any other white middle class neighbourhood's house._

_That made him feel angry._

_Everyone thought that they lived a perfectly normal, happy life which was completely the removed from reality. At parties and social gatherings they would pretend to be normal and that agitated him even further._

_But there was nothing to be done and Jack had no choice but to live with it._

_At present, he was standing in front of his house. He chose to take the back door in case his father was about._

_The house was strangely quiet and that sent off alarm bells. He looked around._

_There was no one in the kitchen or the living room. He almost avoided going into his father's study in case he was there drinking but stopped when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. His dad never left the door open. He was a massive control freak and loved his own 'personal' space._ _Jack entered the room to find his mother on the floor with a horrible- and extremely painful looking- cut on her forehead and multiple bruises on her face._

_"Mom!" he exclaimed, rushing by her side. No response. He shook her slightly in an attempt to wake her up but there was nothing. The signs were clear but he refused to believe it and checked her pulse._

_His mother was dead._

_His father had killed her._

_Jack saw red._

_He felt angry- very,very angry. He felt spite, contempt and immense hatred. Moreover, he couldn't think right. He just couldn't-_

_He felt tears run down his cheeks and then something weird happened. He felt...liberated._

_He had nothing to hold him back, he realized. The one person who kept him from hating his father was dead. Gone. Killed in vain by a drunkard._

_"She didn't deserve to die like this," he said to himself, "it's an insult to her." And it was, to him anyway._

_And he also happened to know how to get even on it._

_Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jack quietly went upstairs._

_Forgoing his own bedroom, he peaked into his parent's bedroom. There was his father- the stupid, pitiful man passed out from excessive drinking._

_Jack knew what to do._

_He walked into the room and quietly took his father's gun out of its case. He loaded it and then walked up to the man, shaking him._

_"Wake up," he snapped, his voice high from the excitement of what he was about to do. "Wake up Frank!"_

_His father's eyes popped open and grew wide comically when he saw Jack._

_"What're you-"_

_"I want you to see me as I kill you, you son of a bitch," he said before pulling the trigger._

_And **then** he started laughing._

Back in the real world Dr Henry Abbott watched excitedly the Joker see daylight the first time in two years.


	11. Planned Abduction

"This is tough work," Bruce retorted for the fourth time in an hour as he, Misha and Alfred sat at the large desk of odd assortments of newspaper reports, surveillance monitors and the occasional empty cup of coffee. Misha raised a brow and Alfred stated that he'd get more coffee.

Which he did.

"This is tough," he repeated once more.

Misha sighed and said nothing. She was reading this one article about Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn robbing a store. It was an incredibly thorough job- not unlike something the Joker would do. But then again, she reminded herself, Harley had been with Joker for quite a long time so it was kind of obvious that she'd pull a fast one like him.

It didn't help her feel any better though.

She did not like being around anyone who knew the Joker.

It made her... _uncomfortable._

To put it mildly.

"This is t-"

"I swear if you say that one more time, I will personally make your life miserable," she snapped putting the newspaper away.

It was Bruce's turn to raise a brow.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She took a deep breath.

"No," she admitted, "I'm **not** alright. I'm exhausted. I'm frustrated. I really do wish that these people had better things to do in life!"

"Sounds like you need a break," Bruce suggested and Misha side tracked immediately.

"What? No!" she bellowed. "I don't need a break."

Bruce grinned. "You _totally_ need a break."

"Well, even if I did, now's a hell of a time to take it," she commented before retreating back to her work.

Bruce nodded and got back to his station a plan already formulating in his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Do you feel any different without the make up?" the good doctor asked him.

Jack shrugged. "Nah, it's cool," he admitted. "I do feel a bit _strange_. Who would've thought that I'd grow so attached to that stuff."

Dr Abbott avidly took notes.

"What about your...err, thirst for blood?" he asked cautiously.

The Joker eyed him for a long time, as though trying to decipher his intentions. Despite of constant reassurance, Abbott felt himself grow more and more anxious as the mass murderer continued to stare at him. After all, there was still that slight chance of-

He grinned and Abbott felt an enormous burden leave his shoulders.

"Not particularly," he answered. "I think I've got that covered for now."

The man nodded. "That'll be enough for today then," he said, reaching forward to remove the electrolysis devise from Jack's head. The moment he did that, Jack's phone rang.

"Perfect timing," he grumbled getting up from his seat. Sessions with Dr Abbott, particularly the ones involving the Joker, were really tiring. He stretched his arms as he answered his phone.

"Jack Napier."

_"Jack, it's me."_

He felt his entire body tense. Bruce Wayne was on the line. He didn't particularly like Bruce Wayne.

He wondered why he called him.

"Bruce? Ya, what's...err, up?" He hoped he didn't sound too strange. He was, after all, talking to his wife's boss. And she didn't even know about it, it would appear.

 _"Nothing much. Just been jammed up at work recently,"_ the man on the other end said, _"But that's not why I called."_ He paused for a moment, as though to collect his thoughts and then continued, _"We've been working a lot lately. Specially Misha. I'm afraid she's letting the work load get to her. And I know that the two of you haven't been able to spend a lot of time together recently because of it..."_

Jack stiffened. _Why did Bruce Wayne- of all the people- know that? Did she talk to him about that?_

She certainly didn't talk to _him_ about it and it was **their** problem!

"So I thought about letting her off for some time," he finished, "Of course, Misha won't back off easily so I decided to surprise her."

Jack was seeing red at this point. "Really?" he asked him. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Bruce seemed to have missed the aggressiveness in his tone as he continued with his plan, " _Well, you could like, take her somewhere- or at least, you could tell her that it's a surprise and then bring her to the airport where you guys could board my jet and go on holiday. All expanse paid, courtesy of Wayne Enterprises and yada yada yada. Point is, you guys could take a break. Have a mini honeymoon or something. You guys did have a honeymoon, right?"_

"No, I was locked up behind bars," he informed him, "Batman put me there."

That seemed to have knocked some sense into Wayne since he laughed nervously at that. _"Uh, yeah... about that, no hard feelings right? Batman was just doing his job. I was kind of worried about you guys during the whole ordeal. At least he didn't kill ya..."_

Jack frowned in suspicion. "Why're you defending Batman?"

 _"Because I like him," he_ answered easily. _"I do wish I could pull off something like that. Chicks love heroes, right?"_

"Of course, they do," Jack said, his voice clipped.

_"Yeah, so- the plan. Yay or nay?"_

Jack thought for a moment. It didn't sound too bad though. A nice retreat for him and Misha for a couple of days. Definitely a good idea. He was sold. "Yeah, sure. I pick the venue?"

 _"Yeah, done!"_ Wayne seemed really enthusiastic.

"Okay, so when do I abduct my wife?" he asked.

_"Tonight!"_

"Tonight?"

_"Ya!"_

"Wow, that's quick. If I didn't know better I'd say that you're trying to get rid of her as soon as possible."

He could feel him grin as he said, _"If only that was the case."_

And then he hung up, leaving Jack puzzled. He was sure he'd never seen Bruce Wayne this excited when he pranced about as the Joker.

_What was he up to?_


	12. To Neverland

Misha was tired, worn out and every other synonym for the word, in English and any other foreign languages which she may or may not know, by the time she got off work. To make matters worse, she had not even brought her car with her. Well, it wasn't like she had any choice in the matter anyway, she thought.

Jack had made it his duty to pick and drop her off at work everyday.

And that is what made the entire ordeal even stranger. For the past three weeks or so, he was always there to pick her up from work on time. He was never late to pick her up and specially not _half an hour late._

Misha sighed. Today was turning out to be one of those days where she hated the universe and the universe hated her.

Basically karma being a bitch and all- even though she didn't really remember being mean to anyone recently. She waited for another five minutes before deciding to check her phone. Maybe he'd called her to tell her why he'd be unable to pick her up and she'd missed it. True to her thought, there was a missed call from Jack. At about three o' clock.

She remembered ranting about life to Alfred at that time.

Oh well.

She was horrible person, wasn't she?

"He's probably having a longer therapy session," she muttered to herself.

Misha began to walk home.

She'd done that very often when Jack was still at Arkham. It had always been a way of calming herself down, directing her frustrations and concerns elsewhere and losing herself to the environment and think about other, less pressing things for a change.

It almost made her feel...normal.

It also made her notice the other things she would ignore on daily basis. Like the fact that the trees had been recently trimmed and that there were more clouds in the sky, implying that it would rain and-

**_KA-RAAACK!_ **

The skies poured down and Misha couldn't help but shriek, _"Seriously!?"_ at that.

Looked like Mother Nature was taking it on her as well.

She ran in the rain hoping to get home as soon as possible and avoid ruining her new blouse from Tar-

A car rolled by and Misha, being all too familiar with the vehicle and its occupant, opened the door of the passenger side and stepped in.

Jack was grinning at her.

"Shut up," she said to him and he raised both hands in surrender.

"I didn't say anything," he countered.

"Oh, but you were going to," she told him, "and that's _much_ worse."

He pretended to sulk after that but said nothing more.

Which was strange.

Jack never backed off from an argument over the predictability of his behaviour. In fact-

"How was therapy today?" she asked him and he visibly stiffened for a moment. Which led to one obvious conclusion: either he was caught completely off guard or the therapy session wasn't a good one.

Misha chose to believe the latter.

"That bad?" she went on.

Jack shrugged easily. "Nah," he replied, "it's just- therapy's the last thing on my mind right now."

Misha frowned. "Huh?"

Jack gave her a sidelong glance and diverted his attention back to the road. "Nothing."

"What nothing?"

"Nothing nothing."

Misha rose a brow.

"What is that supposed to be?" she asked him.

"I'm considering to become a stand up comedian," he told her. "My jokes have gotten much better ever since I became the mad man."

"You're not a mad man, Jack," she immediately argued.

"Eh, I'm okay with it," he shrugged, "besides- thanks to that loonie, I've got tonnes of fans! I mean, who wouldn't want to see the guy who used to be the Joker attempt to be a real joker?"

Misha wasn't sure if that was supposed to be funny. "Well," she admitted, "I don't think that's going to get you anywhere."

He grinned at her. "That's the genius of it."

"The guy who used to be Joker can't joke for shit?" she offered.

"Mmm-hmm, that's the punchline."

That brought a little smile.

"People are going to hate you," she said.

"Well, they hate me anyway," he admitted.

"I don't know where you get these ideas from."

"I'm Shakespeare," he teased her, "And all World's a stage."

Misha frowned. "You've been reading Shakespeare?"

"Yup, haven't had anything better to do."

"Shakespeare?"

"Yes."

"William Shakespeare?"

"Yes, I feel like I should be really offended because you look shocked. Any particular reason?"

It took her a minute to assess but then she realized that she was over reacting. He could read Shakespeare. Like, anyone could. Still-

"Since when did you become the reading type?"

"Since I got stuck with you in your apartment Misha."

Now that did stop her.

"You mean you've been secretly reading all my books without me realizing it?"

"Yes."

"I thought you only liked The Prince!"

"I do but when you've read a book a thousand times, you kind of want to read something else as well."

"Oh."

Jack grinned. "You're not exactly the most observant person love," he informed her.

Misha glared at him. "Please," she stated, "I am. How do you think I ended up working for Bruce Wayne?"

"Well, he's about as observant as a housefly," Jack easily replied.

"Really?"

"Yup."

"How do you know?"

"I talked to him."

_Now that was news to her!_

"What do you mean you talked to him?" she inquired.

"I talked to him," he replied, "with my mouth and my vocal cords and my voice."

"Ha ha, real funny. Seriously though?"

"Well, it might come as a surprise to you," Jack told her earnestly, "but people do use their vocal cords to talk. I read in the Scientific Amer-"

"I know how people speak!" she retorted. "I'm talking about Wayne."

"Vain? I'm not vain," he retorted turning around a corner towards the airport. Lucky for him, Misha was too much engrossed in their conversation to realise it.

"Bruce Wayne!"

"Oh him."

"Yes!"

"What about him?"

"You talked to him."

"Oh yeah," Jack admitted as he parked the car. He noticed Bruce approach them and decided to linger. "Well, now that you mention it me and Bruce did talk..."

"And?"

"Well, he told me something about my wife being an absolute workaholic and how we needed to remedy that," he stated.

It took Misha a moment to realize what he had said.

"Wait what're you-" she began to say but was interrupted by a tap on her window. She looked out to see Bruce Wayne standing, grinning at her and jumped in her seat.

"What the hell!" she exclaimed, getting out of the car. Jack followed suit. "When did you two plan this?"

"A couple of hours ago to be fair," Bruce informed her and she glared at him.

"I don't need a vacation," she stated.

"Well, lucky for you, I do," Jack called from the back as he took out a couple of suitcases from the trunk of the car.

Misha turned to look at him. "How'd you get the time to pack?"

Jack shrugged. "T'was easy."

Bruce nodded his head, as though he had been in out. Actually, now that she thought about, he probably had helped with it.

Still, she wondered how they'd managed to pull it off without her realizing.

"So," he went on, taking something out of the inner pocket of the business suit he was wearing. "I believe these are yours. I'll be on my way then."

Misha took the documents to see that they were two plane tickets to-

 _"Paris?"_ she exclaimed. "I'm not going to _Paris."_

"Uh, you are," Jack informed her, "both of us are actually." He nodded at Bruce who, in turn, responded and took the car keys from Jack.

"I'll see you in three weeks," he told her as he got into the car. "Don't do something outrageous."

Misha didn't get time to respond as he'd driven off by that time, leaving her to bombard Jack with her questions, the most baffling of them being: _"Why Paris?"_

Jack smiled. He'd expected her to ask that. "Because Neverland," he simply responded and Misha frowned.

"Neverland?"

"Disneyland is Neverland," he answered. That only made her more confused.

_"What?"_

"I'm Jack. The Pirate," he told her, "And I'm going to Neverland."

Misha rolled her eyes at his bad puns. "You're never going to make it as a comedian you know," she informed him bluntly.

"Well, duh," he agreed, his eyes twinkling.


	13. All Hell's Loose

Two weeks.

Two weeks in blissful, beautiful Paris away from the hodge podge that came with life in Gotham. There were no therapy sessions to run to, no billionaires lives needing to be sorted, no responsibilities, nothing.

The two weeks were good.

Needless to say, by the time they arrived back in Gotham, Misha and Jack were well rested, well prepared for whatever a city as unpredictable as Gotham could offer them.

Or so, they thought anyway.

For one thing, immediately after the plane touched down, the flight attendant came up to them and said, "Mr. Wayne wants both of you to wait for everyone else to leave."

Misha frowned, turning to Jack to see if there were anymore surprises on his part. He shrugged and she said nothing.

_What was he up to?_

"You think he's...?" she finally voiced her concerns after a moment.

"He didn't tell me of anything," Jack admitted, "I haven't spoken to him since we left for Paris."

Misha nodded. "I hope everything's fine," she muttered.

They waited for everyone to leave and then the attendant escorted them out of the plane. Near the plane was a car parked with Alfred leaning against it.

Misha and Jack approached him.

"It's lovely to see you both," Alfred said, "but I'm afraid it's not safe here. Master Wayne wants both of you to be at his home immediately. Come on now."

"What do you mean it's not safe?" Misha inquired.

"I really can't explain here,"Alfred said, motioning them to get in the car. "It's a long story."

Misha and Jack obliged and Alfred sat into the car, only after making sure that they were safely in. To say that Misha found this exceedingly strange was an understatement.

"Has something happened?" she asked him as he buckled his seatbelts and started the car.

"A more suitable question would be what _hasn't_ happened," he responded. "Master Wayne'll explain everything. Don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Misha said. "How can I do that after you-"

_**BOOM!** _

A sudden blast rocked the vehicle lunging it forward. It skidded out of control and for a moment, as more explosions followed, Misha thought that they'd be goners. Fortunately Alfred was able to get control over the car again in time to dodge the blows.

"What's going on?" she shouted over the noise, clutching onto the armrest as the car sped into the main road.

"Like I said, it's a long story," Alfred answered.

Misha exchanged glances with Jack who looked equally, if not more, terrified at what was going on.

"Do you think it has-"

Her question was interrupted by another sound, this time much closer to the car than before.

**BOOM!**

"What the hell?!"

"I think we should lay low," Jack suggested, undoing his seatbelts and ducking.

"That's a great idea Mr Napier," Alfred agreed.

Misha didn't really get time to think as she quickly undid her seatbelts and ducked too.

The ride to Bruce's penthouse was the fastest, most dangerous drive of her life. Misha was not sure how Alfred manages it, but he somehow avoided all the explosions until they died out. But even then, they remained low and it was only after Alfred had driven into the garage which had then transported them(still in the car) to Bruce's fifty seventh floor garage where he kept all of his collectables, that Jack and Misha got up and out of the car.

Well, they climbed out of the car.

"I don't know about you," Jack told her after he'd somehow managed to get to her side of the car in less than fifty seconds. Misha found that highly suspicious. _How come he was so calm?_ Like, she could s _ee_ her knees shaking. "But that was a helluva drive!"

She glared at him but accepted his hand anyway as he pulled her up.

"There, much better." Oh yes, he was definitely more calm than usual. Why was he so calm?

Was it because of the Joker? But hadn't Jack said that he didn't remember anything that he did as the Joker? Maybe it was a subconscious thing. _Hmm..._

But she had better things to focus on right now, she realized. And so she did.

"What the _hell_ was that?" she asked, well, yelled at Alfred, taking a step towards the man.

Alfred took a step backward and said, "Master Wayne will explain."

"What does that me-"

Her statement was cut off by Bruce Wayne entering the room himself.

Silence overtook them for a moment as Misha and Jack gazed at Bruce intently for an answer and he just, well, stared back at them. Then, as though he finally knew what to say, he took a deep breath and said, "Well, welcome back."

Misha didn't know what to say to _that_.

Jack, on the other hand, was grinning wildly. "That sure was a heck ova welcoming party."

And that sealed it, Misha was _definitely_ talking to his therapist now.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Strangely enough- _or was it typical Bruce behaviour?_ Misha wondered- Bruce did not tell them immediately what was going on. He was civil to them, both him and Jack seemed to have kicked it out of pretty well and while Misha was busy processing whatever the fuck was happening, they were cool.

She found it incredibly funny too because both men were the Batman and Joker respectively.

Who knew mortal enemies could kick if off so well?

But they did, and as the two men talked about Paris, Misha made her way to one of the guest rooms she was familiar with to freshen up when she noticed something peculiar.

_Most of her and Jack's belongings were there._

From her bunny shoes which she wore to the bathroom, to Jack's guitar (Misha had no idea when he'd bought that to begin with) to Jack's stress releasing colouring books, all of their belongings were there. At first, she thought it was a coincidence. Maybe Bruce had gone out of his way to make them feel comfortable in the event they'd ever decide to stay over by getting near perfect replicas. But then, when she checked the closet, she found all of her and Jack's stuff there too. Their clothes, accessories, shoes- everything.

 _What is going on?_ she wondered.

"Alfred," she called the butler, knowing all too well that he was the only one who would tell her exactly why this had happened (even though he was adamant on Bruce explaining their "welcoming party"-as Jack called it).

"Yes?" he replied, entering the room.

"Where're all our things here?" she asked him.

"Well, you'll be staying with Master Wayne now," he informed her, "that is, until the problem is solved."

"What problem?"

"I'm afraid that's for Master Wayne to tell," he responded once more.

"I-I'll go to talk to him," she stated walking out of the room. Alfred followed her.

In the living room, both Bruce and Jack were talking about what sounded like sports when she spoke.

"Bruce, why're all my things here?"

That seemed to shut them up, what with Bruce pulling a completely blank face and Jack frowning.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, all our stuff's here," she told her husband. "What's going on?" She turned to Bruce who let out a sigh in defeat.

"I was hoping I'd tell you guys once you were settled for lunch," he said, gesturing them to sit. They followed suite."But guess it'll have to be now." He looked at Alfred. "Can you get us a drink or something? I feel like we'll need it."

"Of course, Master Wayne," he replied, leaving the room immediately.

"I don't even know how to begin," he admitted.

"What'd you mean?" It was Jack who asked the question.

Bruce rubbed his temple with his forefinger and thumb.

"A week ago, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy managed to break most of the Joker's old allies out of prison to 'retake Gotham' as they called it. Obviously, they need a leader for that and after carrying out a bunch of badly planned robberies and acts of terror, they decided that they needed their leader back. We found this out through a live broadcast on TV."

"But that doesn't make sense," Misha interrupted, "the Joker's gone." She turned to Jack who had paled at the news. "Right?"

"Well, duh, " he said after a moment's silence, clearly disturbed by the idea itself.

"Yeah, they think there's a way to get him back," Bruce went on, "so they've been looking for Jack. They ransacked your apartment. Nothing's happened to it," he quickly added when he saw Misha's bewildered expression, "it's completely fine. Just a search. And when they found out that you're not here, they started looking. Alfred and I were able to move your belongings here so that while the situation is dissolved, you guys can stay with me."

"But why didn't you go to the police?" Jack asked. "Surely, they can help us in this situation. The police _do_ know about this right?"

Bruce nodded. "They do. And they- well, Gordon anyway- agree that you're safer with me."

Jack frowned. "But you're just a civilian."

"I'm a billionaire with access to state of the art weaponry and security systems," he responded, "making this building the safest place in the entire Gotham- and maybe, even America."

"But still, shouldn't the police be around here?" Jack said, "You know. Just in case."

Bruce smiled. "Alfred's all we need for that."

 _"Alfred?"_ This time it was both Misha and Jack speaking.

"How can Alfred help us?" Jack inquired.

"He's an ex MI 5 agent," Bruce replied. "And I'm pretty sure he can help us better than the police."

"Okay, I didn't know that," Misha stated.

"Well, let's get this straight," Jack said, "we're in a horrible situation because the bad guys want the Joker?"

"It's a little more complicated than that," Bruce told him truthfully. "Apparently, the Joker has some debts to pay with the mob too and they want you as well. Gordon got word from an insider that someone's spreading all kinds of rumour about the Joker.

'It's like the criminals have recovered from the shock of the Joker going down and now there's a scramble for power. One side wants the Joker back while the other wants to move on. So you can see the problem here. Whatever happens, both sides are gonna want to well, get you. Maybe just Jack or maybe even Misha, to get to Jack- and in turn, the Joker."

"But don't they understand that the Joker has been contained?" Misha argued.

Surprisingly, that made both men chuckle.

"Oh Misha," Jack spoke, "the Joker's not just a man. He's a legacy. I'm afraid I've done more bad than good and Karma's coming back for me."

"Don't say that!" Misha was quick to speak but he shrugged.

"It's true. It was bound to happen sooner or later. My only regret is that I've managed to put you in danger too."

"You haven't," Misha reassured him, moving closer to hug him.

Bruce made it a point to look heavenwards at that. He wasn't a big fan of PDA, certainly when it was, well, _Misha and Jack._

"Uhh," he said, "if it makes you feel any better. The police and Batman too- if that's worth noting- have agreed to corporate with Wayne Enterprises and me so that we keep you guys safe and find out a way to get rid of this problem."

"Batman?" Jack repeated, visibly surprised. "How'd he get into this situation?"

"Well, this is a situation for him now isn't it?" Bruce asked him.

"Duh, but I didn't know he was into...you know, ' _corporating_ ' with anyone," Jack said.

Bruce chuckled at that and Misha smiled.

"You'd be surprised how he is," Bruce said to him, before standing up from his spot. "Now, I know that's a lot to take in. But I want you guys to get settled and then... well, we can all have dinner and stuff together."

Misha snickered, sensing that Bruce felt uncomfortable around them. "We'll do that."


	14. The Therapist, The Joker And The Crazy Duo

Their life resumed routine.

True, there were criminals out there looking for Jack but Bruce had been right: Wayne Tower was the safest place in the city- if not the whole country.

Misha went about work with Bruce, Jack stayed in their guest room playing the guitar or reading books; sometimes- and this happened more often than not- he'd help Alfred with the chores or dinner preparation. Everything was fine.

Except for the frequent crime reports on television and the fact that they could no longer leave the building without either Alfred, or Bruce, or the police.

A fortnight into this routine, Jack was bored out of his mind.

And then _it_ started to him.

It started off quite normally- like a sort of an _itch_ in his subconscious. Usually Jack was able to ignore it and go about his daily routine. He could ignore it while reading Homer and Shakespeare; he'd ignore it while cooking a complicated three course meal that Alfred had showed him how to make, and he'd be able to ignore it while he watched the evening news and easily point out the flaws in the many, many, many 'organized' acts of terror the Joker's allies were committing to make Gotham tremble.

And it was trembling.

The police was overworked. There was mistrust between the civilians and the police. A sort of tension in the year as though rioting might break out any moment.

Gotham was trembling. It just wasn't... _squealing_.

And the Joker wanted it to squeal.

Jack could control that feeling because of the glaring difference between good and evil that had penetrated into his mind. He just couldn't deal with the fact that the Joker was egging on his conscious, just begging to come out.

In the end, Jack decided to pay his old therapist a visit. If only just to be the Joker, and in _control of it_ , for a few minutes.

And that was easier said than done.

So he decided to find out if there was a way to see his therapist without getting into trouble. After all, wasn't there a clause in his assignment that whatever he told his therapist would stay between them? Surely, no one would be _inside_ with him. Even if a cop went with him, they'd have to stay outside.

That seemed highly likely.

So, after carefully weighing his chances and all, he decided to talk to Misha about it.

"You know," he spoke to her one Saturday morning after breakfast, "I was thinking. I should probably start seeing my therapist again."

Misha, who up until now was busy reading a book, put it down and said, "Really? Hmmm, you've been doing quite well without him."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "but I want to be done with my allotted time and move on."

Misha went quiet for a moment. "Well, that's a good idea," she said, "I guess we could talk to someone about it and, well, see if you can visit Dr Abbott again."

Jack smiled. "Thanks," he said before hugging her.

Misha simply frowned, wondering what on earth was wrong with her husband. Like, he _never_ did _that._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

A couple of days later, Jack was standing in front of his therapist's office-building. From the corner of his eyes, he looked around to see if the undercover police Gordon had assigned were stationed in their designated spots. Sure enough, there they stood- one by the park entrance, pretending to be interested in photography, and the other underneath a tree with his mobile phone out.

There were others, Jack knew, but they were either in the building itself or simply out of his sight.

He took a deep breath, wondering if it was the right thing to do. He had to visit Dr Abbott- he had to. So brushing aside any doubts he had over the issue, Jack went inside the building.

It was strangely deserted in the building, he noticed as he went to reception.

"I'm here for the-" he started speaking to a very nervous-looking receptionist.

"I know, Dr Abbott, right?" he interrupted him.

Jack nodded, frowning a little. "Yes, I'm here for Dr. Abbott."

"You know the way, right?" the receptionist asked him.

"Of course, I know the way," Jack replied, "What's up, man?"

The receptionist said nothing, only smiling weakly.

Jack reckoned it probably had something to do with the police inside. Maybe the staff were made aware of the situation and that's why he was nervous.

Yeah, that explained it.

He made his way to elevator and found that it was empty as well. Normally there was a doorman or someone like that _. The police sure is paranoid,_ Jack thought as he rode it to the fourth floor. He finally arrived at the good doctor's office.

"Jack, come in, come in," Dr Abbott greeted him at the door.

"Hey doc," Jack responded, "great to see ya."

"You too," the man went on, "here for the usual, I reckon?"

"Yes," he said, "it's been really strange but I've been having an _itch_ in my head. To be the Joker again."

"Ah, so you have been in the loop with what's happening," Dr Abbott observed. Jack nodded. "I thought something like this might happen," he explained, "the Joker, as you put it, is an agent of chaos. Gotham's practically crumbling right now. It'll only make sense if the Joker wanted to destroy it completely. Don't worry, it's just a trigger. I'm sure you'll still be able to control yourself."

"Thank god, I thought I was going insane again,"Jack said as he sat down on his chair.

Over the course of the lessons, Jack had stopped using the strange contraption Dr Abbott owned, and had mastered the power to summon the Joker at will. Which is why it seemed perfectly natural for Jack not to use the device and instead, close his eyes and focus.

He remained frozen in this position for a moment, then two, and then three. But no Joker appeared.

Jack opened his eyes to see the doctor staring at him expectantly.

"I can't do it,"Jack informed him, "maybe it's because it's been such a long time..."

Abbott agreed and Jack wore the helmet before the device was turned on.

Still nothing.

They tried it twice, thrice and then for well over an hour but nothing happened.

"I don't get it," Jack remarked at the end of it, "why isn't it happening?"

"I don't know," his doctor responded, looking very pale suddenly, "it's almost as if... the Joker's gone."

Something strange crossed his face and Jack was only beginning to decipher it when someone walked into the room.

"Well, well, Dr. Abbott," Harley Quinn stated, "you were wrong. The Joker can't be brought back, now can he?"

Jack's eyes widened. _Wh-what?_

"He's gone forever now, isn't he?" she inquired.

Jack didn't turn around; he was frozen in his spot. From where he stood, he could see his therapist's facial expression shift to one of horror.

"I...it worked!" he informed her. "It did! I- I saw it myself! You have to believe me!"

"Oh, I will," Harley informed him, "but I'm afraid I'll have to try something out for myself. _Isn't that right, Jack?"_ she whispered in his ear. A shiver ran down Jack's spine as his brain processed just how close she was to him and a primitive survival instinct took over.

He had to get out of here.

And so Jack ran. He ran as fast as he could, fast enough for Harley to be taken by surprise and not do anything about. He ran out of the room- distinctly hearing Harley's loud, shrill laughter- down the stairs since his head told him that waiting for the elevator was not a good idea in this situation, and he was almost out of the door when...

...When he saw just who was standing near the door.

 _Poison Ivy_.

And even though he did not remember much from his time as the Joker, Jack did know one thing:Poison Ivy _hated_ him.

For a number of reasons.

One of them being that, well, he wasn't good at making good on his promises.

The Joker had made a lot of enemies.

It was one of these times that Jack wondered if he'd had a death wish when he was the Joker.

He could see where he was coming from though- his life had been at an all time low and all that- but still.

He'd basically signed his own death warrant.

At present, Jack had no idea what to do.

The elevator opened and Harley stepped out.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Poison Ivy exclaimed, "The Joker... _or is it Jack now?"_

"It's Jack alright," Harley snickered.

"Does he really not remember anything?" Poison Ivy asked her.

"Nope, though I don't really believe that," she answered. "Isn't that right, _Jack?"_

Jack didn't know what to do.

"What's the matter?" Ivy said. "Cat got your tongue? The Joker loved talking, didn't he?"

"He did," Harley said, "I really miss him at times. Mistah J was _soo_ much fun."

"Let's see if what that doctor said is true," Ivy suggested, "let's try to bring the Joker back."

Jack didn't know what was going to happen but he had a really bad feeling about it.

He slowly, cautiously walked away from the duo, hoping to find _some_ way of getting out of his current conundrum.

He just hoped he could think of something before anything-

_**KRRAAASSH!** _

All three of them turned around to see Batman standing behind them, glass all around the floor, leading to one obvious conclusion: Batman had broken the glass.

"What're you doing here?" Poison Ivy hissed.

"To make sure that you're not here," he informed her, before punching her.

She crashed to the wall near Jack.

"Run!" Batman told him and Jack complied. He did, after all, value his life too much not to.

He ran towards the door while Batman dealt with the two of villains. Unfortunately for him, the door was sealed shut.

"I can't open it!" he told Batman.

Batman turned to look at him, looking mildly annoyed before took out what looked like a grenade (but really, it couldn't be that- he _was_ the Batman after all) from his belt before throwing it at them.

Immediately, smoke filled the room. Jack couldn't see properly but the next thing he knew, the Batman was beside him, opening the door.

"Come on," he told him and Jack, once again, obeyed.

They ran out of the building, Jack only looking around to see where the undercover policemen were, but only found a lot of ambulances and people around. Apparently, the building had been under siege.

He kind of felt stupid for not noticing the obvious signs- the receptionist behaving strangely, no one being around and all that, and briefly chastised himself for not doing so.

He followed Batman to the Bat mobile.

"Go home," Batman told him, "Quickly. Don't you dare stop anywhere. Or talk to anyone." With that he got into his vehicle of choice and sped off.

It took Jack a moment to register what he'd said and when it did, he made a beeline for home.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"What's happening?" Misha was on him the moment Bruce entered his penthouse- still dressed as Batman but that wasn't a problem. Jack wasn't home yet and he'd change in a moment. After all, if the IA was to be believed, it would take Jack approximately fifteen more minutes to get home.

Bruce took of the Batman mask to answer her. "Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn took Jack's therapist's office hostage. I think they wanted to talk to him or something. They were pretty hostile to him."

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed in horror. "Is he alright? I knew he shouldn't've gone there!"

"He's fine," Bruce told her, "I made sure of that. He should be home any minute now."

"Oh well, why'd you leave him?" she immediately asked.

"Well, I couldn't well let him find out-"

"But you could've dropped him off and then showed up."

"That'd be too suspicious."

"Yeah, right," Misha scoffed.

"Misha."

"What?"

"I don't have time for this."

"Well, excuse me if I'm worried about my husband. Why is it taking him so long?"

"It should take him at least fifteen minutes to be here."

"Really, what makes you say that? I swear if something happens to Jack, I'm gonna kill you!"

"Nothing's going to happen to him," Bruce informed her, "he's fine. Gordon's got undercover cops following him. Why do you think I was able to get to him before those two crazies did anything?"

"Because you're Batman," she retorted.

Bruce sighed. "Yeah, I'm Batman," he said, looking down at his suit. "And I need to change."

"Indeed."

Unfortunately for them, Jack entered the apartment at that very moment.

And he saw red.


	15. Missing

It had been three hours now and Jack still wasn't home.

"Where is he?" Misha hissed at Bruce when he'd finally returned from the Bat cave.

Bruce frowned. "He's still not here yet?"

"No, he's not," she responded, clearly irritated, "this is why I asked you to bring him back with you, you ass." She looked around worriedly. "What if Harley's got him?"

"Nah, that's not possible," Bruce shrugged her off. "The police caught Harley and Ivy. They're due to be in jail for at least a fully day."

"But then why isn't he at home?" she inquired.

"I don't know," he mused, "maybe he wants to be left alone. I mean, I know I would want to be left alone if my past came after me like that."

Misha narrowed her eyes. "Excuse you," she stated, "You're Batman. I highly doubt you'd feel that way."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said making his way towards the kitchen. "Give him time. He'll be back. Stop being clingy."

"I am _**not** _ clingy," she informed him. "I'm worried."

"Definitely clingy."

"Shut up."

"Alright."

Bruce didn't say anything after and went inside the kitchen to get a glass of water. Misha followed him. He ignored her. When five minutes went by and he said nothing, she announced, "I'm going out."

"What?"

"Yeah, if you're to be believed, Gordon probably has a couple of undercover cops after me," she stated, "I'm going to look for my husband."

"Jesus Christ, Misha," Bruce began, "he's fine."

_"How do you know?"_

"Because I keep tabs on him," he gave up his secret, "that's how I know when to catch which criminal. I keep tabs on everyone in Gotham. It's part of a technology Wayne Enterprises developed."

Misha thought for a moment. "I'm still not convinced," she informed him, making her way out of the kitchen.

"Don't come crying to me if you're abducted," Bruce called after her since, well, it was true. It was well known in the underworld of Gotham that the Joker's wife, Misha Alau'din, had a bounty on her head. Basically some big crime lords wanted her alive to blackmail the Joker. Bruce was pretty sure Misha knew about it too but for some reason, she chose to ignore that.

"I won't," she called in a sing song voice.

Bruce frowned. Normally Misha would be cautious in such a situation. Did she know something he didn't?

"Alfred," he asked his butler who had been in the kitchen baking as the entire drama unfolded, "is there something I should know about?"

"Believe me sir," replied he, "do you ever."

* * *

In a secluded part of Gotham City Park, away from most- if not all- park goers, the undercover cops who had stopped following him since entering that blasted building, and in general, everyone, Jack sat under bark of an old oak tree. He could have sat down in the bench not one foot away from him but he didn't feel like it.

His mind was in other places.

He couldn't believe it.

Bruce was Batman.

Batman was Bruce.

And given how unfazed Misha was by that fact, she'd known that for some time now.

The thought made him angry.

_How could he have never seen it?_

It kind of was obvious, now that he thought about it. But he had spent years as the Joker trying to figure out who Batman was.

And turns out, it happened to be his wife's boss- friend.

His wife's best friend, if he dare put two into two together.

He wasn't particularly mad at Misha or Bruce, he realized.

It was just the idea.

It irked him.

And he could feel Joker getting irritated by it as well.

It made sense though.

After all, Bruce Wayne was often present in places where Batman was present.

That night at his party when the whole Harvey Dent thing was going on, yeah- well, Bruce Wayne hadn't been in the crowd. In fact, Bruce Wayne had vanished and had remained so until after Batman had taken leave.

He'd always assumed that Rachel was cheating on Dent with the commissioner or someone in her office. The Mayor had come into his mind and he'd even entertained that thought for a while.

He should have seen it really.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

It sounded funny.

Billionaire, playboy Bruce Wayne was the city's caped crusader.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Bruce's public image did not match the Bruce he- and Misha- had come to knowing. The Bruce they knew was nice, he had brotherly relations with Jack, and was very protective of Misha. He was kind and giving and so very understanding to the point that he could _see_ that Misha was over-worked and needed a break.

At first, Jack hadn't particularly liked Bruce. He'd thought that he was trying to woo his wife, like the so many women he'd wooed in public but now he could see that all womanising and stuff was what he projected to the world.

He wasn't like that.

Not one bit.

More importantly, he was able to _see_ people.

And that's what Jack appreciated.

Not many people _saw_ people. And Bruce was one of them.

And so, deciding to calmly let them know that he was in on the secret now, Jack got up to leave.

It had been a full hour since he'd come here and something told him that his wife was freaking out.

Unfortunately for him, the moment he got out of his hiding place, he was confronted by Harley Quinn.

"We never tried that experiment the good ol' doctor recommended, now did we?" she asked him.

_"What?"_ Jack managed to say before something hit him on his head. Hard.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Misha walked out of Wayne Enterprises, prepared for whatever the criminals of Gotham had in store for her, as she looked for her husband. It wasn't as though she did not trust Bruce. If he said that Jack was fine, there was a ninety nine percent chance that he was, indeed, fine but she just couldn't shake of this bad feeling she was getting all morning.

She'd had it when Jack first told her about seeing his therapist again. She'd had it when he left to see said therapist this morning. And now she had it even though Bruce reassured her that Jack was fine.

He was right though.

Maybe Jack wanted some time alone.

After all, he had gone to see his therapist in an attempt to move onwards in life only to be bombarded with that crazy Harley Quinn and her friend.

Harley Quinn made Misha feel uncomfortable. It wasn't just her relationship with Jack. Oh no, she'd accepted that Jack had had a life before her a long time ago. It was just... there was something _off_ about her.

Maybe it was the parallels they shared. Or maybe it was just because Harley was bat shit crazy while Misha was as sane as could be.

She'd been tempted way too often to count, to approach Bruce and get the details on Harley before the Joker, but had stopped. Maybe she felt insecure. After all, Harleen Quinzel was a doctor- someone who'd achieved far more than Misha could hope for in her whole life, and maybe that's why she found her intimidating?

Misha didn't know. Nor did she, she realized, care for that matter.

She was looking for her husband.

Wherever he was hiding.

She was distinctly aware of the two policemen trailing after her. She knew this because she had seen both of them the day she'd gone up to Gordon to confess of her connection with the Joker. Yup, she remembered them alright.

And that was reassuring.

Misha had thought of a particularly dangerous scenario where the mob bosses had managed to kill the cops following her and had their own goons do it.

At least now she'd know what to do if that did happen.

She could call Gordon or, better yet, Bruce. All she'd have to do is make sure that they were indeed following her at all times and had not been replaced by mafia members.

Simple enough.

But that was really the least of her worries.

"If I were Jack, where would I go?" she mused aloud, walking down the streets and entering a cafe. Jack's favourite one, at that.

It seemed unlikely but Jack could have been here.

He did, after all, have a sweet tooth.

And that in itself could help her find him.

She went to the counter to ask the waitress, Ginny, if she'd seen Jack come in today. She was almost to her when the television over the counter ran a news bulletin.

_Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had escaped._

Misha felt herself freeze.

The report went to say how they'd vanished mysteriously from the police van that was carrying them to jail. Apparently, this had happened over an hour ago.

Jack hadn't been home in three.

Which only meant one thing: _they had Jack._

Misha ran out of the shop.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket while she did so.

"Bruce," she yelled into her phone.

_"Guh...what?"_

"Open the telly!"

_"Huh?"_

"Just shut up and do as I say!"

Wayne Enterprises came into view and even though Misha was well aware of the fact that she would be the talk of the week- if not the month- if her colleagues saw her running like a crazed mad person, she really couldn't care less.

She had been right!

Her bad feeling turned out to be true.

_Oh, why didn't she just follow her gut feeling and not let Jack out of the house today?_ her conscious yelled at her and for once, she listened to it.

She'd give herself if something happened to Jack.

Please, please, don't be dead, she prayed as she rode up the elevator and into the penthouse.

Lucky for her, Batman was waiting there for her, well prepared for the situation.

Well, mostly.

* * *

_"I told you something was wrong!"_ Misha scolded him.

Bruce said nothing, not really wanting to give her the pleasure of being right. It wasn't supposed to go like this. He had everything planned. And yet, his plan had failled miserably.

They didn't know where Jack was.

They didn't know where Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy were.

They didn't even know how they escaped to begin with.

At first, he'd assumed that Gordon's force was corrupt.

That was the simple, most logical explanation.

But Gordon insisted that his men were genuine and that none of them had been paid off by anyone. Bruce even interrogated all of them as Batman but all of that came to waste.

Jack was missing.

And there was a high chance that Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy were responsible.

Scratch that, he was _more than_ sure than Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy were responsible.

Which brought him to his current dilemma: calming Misha.

In all honesty it sounded more like a movie with an over- the- top plot than an actual real world task.

And that in itself would have been even more if all of this wasn't _technically_ his fault.

"Look," he told her, "I didn't think they'd manage to escape this quick."

Misha scowled. "How could you? Didn't you think this through?"

"I did," he argued, "I just didn't think that this could happen. I mean, look at it from my perspective: the police isn't corrupt, they literally vanished into _thin air._ And that's impossible."

"I really don't care about that," Misha informed him, "the point is, my husband is missing. And you need to do something about this. You could have prevented this."

"By risking the fact that I'm Batman," he pointed out.

"What's wrong with him knowing?" she argued. "It's not like he'll go all crazy Joker on you anymore."

"Things wouldn't be the same," Bruce admitted, "and that sucks."

"So basically you're risking my husband's life because of your own selfish world views?"

Bruce sulked. "That's not it."

"Well," she said, making her way towards the door, "I'd love to hear all about that but I have to look for Jack. You're coming?"

Bruce sighed. "Yes."

"As Batman?"

"Not yet."

"Okay."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Blood.

And a raw stench of flesh.

That's the first thing that came into his mind when he woke up. Remembering what had happened, Jack immediately sat up to find himself in what liked like an abandoned warehouse.

And guess what?

There was a lot of blood. Bottles and jars of them. He didn't know what to make of it apart from the fact that the place looked vaguely familiar. Broken pieces of toys, instruments and what looked like circus equipment.

But that's not what got to him.

It was the fact that he was dressed as... _the Joker._

He scrambled up to his feet to find a way out but the room seemed to have no exit.

Which in itself was strange because from what he knew of this strange, familiar room, there should have been an exit.

And so he started to look.

He looked between the toys, the bottles of bottle which seemed to have expired long ago (it wasn't even human blood, he realised much to his relief) and through the circus equipment.

Eventually he gave up and decided to wait.

His captors did have to show up at some point.

Jack decided to humor them.

Which was even stranger because that was a very Jokeresque thing to do.

He decided he didn't like what he was wearing.

_Not. One. Bit._

Jack shuddered. He was starting to think like him too.

He had to do something quick, he had to get out before the Joker took over.


	16. Lost Then Found

They'd been looking for Jack for well over two days and even though nothing had happened yet, Bruce knew that they'd have to find him fast or else there would be consequences.

From Misha's end at the very least.

She'd started behaving strangely.

After being particularly expressive about his bad planning skills, she'd gotten really focused on finding Jack. And then she'd gotten quiet. Just like that.

That had happened sometime after the initial twenty hours into their search. The reality of Jack's disappearance had finally start to hit her, it seemed. Specially after that report they got from one of Gordon's undercover men.

Apparently, it was all over the underworld that Jack Napier had been taken. By whom, no one knew though everyone was pretty sure it was the Joker's old pals. Harley Quinn was the obvious answer but she'd vanished.

Along with Poison Ivy, Killer Croc and a couple of other people.

There were also rumours about the Joker being back in business though no one could confirm that.

That seemed to have gotten to Misha particularly.

She remained quiet after that.

She didn't eat or sleep for the matter.

She just kept track of what was happening in the city.

As for Bruce, he had only himself to blame for what was happening.

It didn't add up.

It had never happened like this before.

He'd always dropped people in safe spots and they'd gone home safely.

It was almost as though someone was directly challenging Batman via Jack.

That's how it felt at least.

They'd managed to get Jack right under his nose and there was nothing they could do about it.

It had been two days and Misha was getting worse even though she wouldn't talk to anyone about it.

He decided to call her friend- Iona over to make her feel better.

That seemed like a better idea.

He pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

As the owner of Wayne Enterprises, he made it his sole responsibility to keep tabs on all of his employees.

Which meant that he also had their respective numbers.

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

_**"Sure, boss. Right now?"** _

Bruce replied: **_"Yes."_**

And waited.

It wouldn't take her more than five minutes to arrive. Unless she was doing something particularly important. He didn't exactly remember giving IT any pressing work so it shouldn't've-

_**Ding.** _

The elevator opened to reveal Misha's most particular friend.

"Hey boss," she greeted him in her typical, easy-go-lucky mannerism, "what's up?"

Bruce smiled. He found her to be quite entertaining at times. He remembered the first time he met her. Unfortunately for him, it seemed as though all the women with substance were off the market.

Not that _that_ was important at the moment.

"Misha's room is there," he informed her.

She nodded and went that way.

Bruce turned back to his phone.

Nothing seemed to add up.

* * *

"Yo Mish," Iona announced as she barged- and yes, even after a good seven years she would call it _barge_ because that's what Iona did- into her room. "What's up?"

Misha sighed, turning to the other side not facing Iona. She hadn't been able to sleep for a while and Iona's presence would certainly not help her case.

She ignored her friend and closed her eyes. Even though her thoughts were accelerating at the speed of light, all she wanted was for them to stop immediately. She wanted her thoughts to be positive, not negative and certainly not the kind of negative they were leaning towards.

It didn't make sense.

It was as though an old friend- and this was not Iona.- a metaphorical old friend was creeping back to her. Depression. And that sense of impending doom she'd harboured since she was twelve.

Or was it eleven?

Misha couldn't remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?" her other bubbly friend asked her.

"Go away," she told her, and Iona- in typical Iona fashion- did the exact opposite.

"Yeah right," she said, pulling the covers off her. "Come on, time to go."

Misha sat up reluctantly. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, we need to go to a club," she told her, "since we're both moping over guys."

"What?" Misha frowned.

"Your hubby's gone ka-poosh and my stupid boyfriend cheated on me," she said casually, "we deserve a night out."

"Wait, Carlisle cheated on you?"

"Wha? No, I gave up on that guy _months_ ago," she shrugged, "my other recent boyfriend. The one you didn't know about. I caught him in a sexting chain with four other women. Broke my heart. I threw my grandmother's faux ming vase at him."

Despite the situation, Misha found herself smiling at that. "What?"

"Yeah, he told me he'd sue me. It's been four days," Iona informed her, "and nothing. I think it's safe to say that he was bluffing."

"Well, duh," Misha agreed. "He probably didn't-"

"Have the balls?" Iona finished the sentence for her. "Yes, Yes, I think so too."

"So what're you doing here?" Misha inquired.

"Well, Bruce Wayne asked me," she told her, "I mean, imagine that. Here's little ol' me sitting in my booth tryna hack into our security system checkin' for flaws when _ **BAM!**_ Bruce Wayne in all his glory enters IT and makes a beeline for my seat. I was shell shocked. Until I realized that I hadn't done anything wrong. I mean, _not yet anyway_ \- and then I started breathing again. Turns out, you were having an existential crisis."

Misha smiled. "I'm not having an existential crisis," she told her anyway, "I'm just worried. About Jack."

Iona thought for a moment. "You know worrying won't do much right?" she told her honestly. Misha nodded.

"Good, then here's what I propose," Iona said, "let's map out his possible location."

"And how do we do that?"

"By using the interwebs of course," she informed her, pulling her mobile phone out.

"What do you mean?"

Iona rolled her eyes. "Twenty first century. Tech operator. I might just be useful," she stated. "Now tell me, does Jack Jack have a phone?"

"Yes."

"Have you guys tried tracking it?"

"Of course."

"Did you try GPS?"

"Well, yes. Bruce got in touch with the network service people and everything but they said that they couldn't map his location. Like, they found locations of San Francisco!"

"You do realize that it's shit easy to do that right?"

"What?"

"Of course, we're not an illegal hacking organisation," Iona said more to herself than Misha, "does Bruce have a good computer. Like, I mean, a non Windows or Apple OS or something?"

"I think I'll have to ask him," Misha replied.

"Well, let's go."

* * *

Bruce and Alfred were busy monitoring most phone calls within Gotham with the potential underworld keywords when Misha and her friend, Iona came out of her room.

"Do you guys have a good computer?" Iona asked them.

Alfred directed them towards the one in the study.

"No, no, I mean, the non Windows, Apple OS types," she elaborated.

Bruce raised a brow. "Why?"

"We're looking for Jack," she informed him. Behind her, Misha nodded.

"We've been looking for him for twenty four hours now," Bruce informed her, "Batman, the police, heck- even the CIA. So what makes you think you can find him?"

From behind her, Misha was glaring at him. Bruce winked at her and turned towards Iona once more. "Well?"

"Because you're all clean, legal operatives," she told him, "you should really look into my job description. I can help. Even if I fail, it's worth a try."

Bruce shrugged and said, "Fine, use mine." He got up from his seat to give her room to sit. Iona sat down and began typing away.

Bruce stood beside Misha.

"Why're you so mean to her?" she whispered into his ear.

Bruce shrugged. "I just don't see how she can find Jack when we-"

"Got him!" Iona announced.

Bruce frowned. "No way, did you?" he walked over to her and peered into the computer.

"This isn't-"

"I know, but unlike you people, I do this for a living so it's easy to deduce where he is," she told him. Then turning to Misha and Alfred, she said, "His phone's GPS is messed up. So what I did was take the pattern and map it onto Gotham. If I'm correct, you last saw Jack near this building right?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, it was another place. It was," he moved the little blue dot- which represented Jack on the screen- to where he'd dropped him off, "near the therapist's place he went to." The pattern retraced itself to a place a few miles off the vicinity she'd originally pointed to."The docks," he said, "he's at one of the warehouses at the docks."

Misha's face paled. The docks was where the Joker used to do most of his business.

"I think we should call the police,"Bruce informed everyone.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Even though she'd protested, Misha and Bruce left Iona behind as they got into one of Bruce's cars and drove to the venue. They'd called the police before leaving and a few blocks away from his house, Bruce let Misha take the wheel and ran off to the Batcave.

They'd need Batman for this.

Misha waited for Jim Gordon to show up before driving herself to the docks.

According to Iona's map, Jack was supposed to be in one of the warehouses in the more secluded side of the harbour, away from where most business was done.

That in itself filled her with dread. She wondered what he was doing right now? Or worse, what state he was in?

A shiver ran down her spine. _What if... what if he was...?_

She shook her head. Oh no, she wouldn't think of it.

Misha drove to the venue and met with Gordon.

"Batman's already here," he informed her, "he thinks it's that one." He pointed at an old warehouse.

Misha nodded. "I'll go in?"

Gordon looked hesitant. "Umm, are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. "I want to."

"I mean, there's a chance that he won't be alone and we don't even know if Jack's there. I mean, what if it's the Joker a-"

"Gordon," she interrupted him, "it's okay."

He smiled even though he looked uncomfortable. "Alright then."

They walked towards the warehouse together.

"Let the SWAT team go in first," he said to her. Minutes passed, as did an entire whole hour but there was no response or signal from the team.

"Something's wrong," Gordon acknowledged and pulled his gun out. "Let's go in. Stay behind me."

Misha nodded and followed him inside.

The building was strange and maze like.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A trap," Gordon said, "I do think the team's lost."

They stepped inside the maze and moved forward slowly, inspecting each wall and floor before they moved on. The walls were deep red and black with the occasional jester's hat or clown face painted on it.

"I think the Joker's old friends are responsible for this," Gordon went on, "but why?"

Misha grew pale. She didn't say it but she knew why they did it. It all fit in really well, now that she thought about, the interior, the disappearance itself... _they were trying to bring the Joker back!_

_But they couldn't right?_ she wondered. _The Joker was gone. Forever. Or was he?_

Thankfully enough, she didn't get time to think about that any longer as soon enough they exited the maze.

The room they entered was a little bigger than a walk in closet and Batman and the SWAT team were all present there.

"We're trying to open the door," one of the officers informed them. "It's jammed."

"Or rather, was jammed," Batman said, finally opening the door.

Misha was filled with dread as she stepped into the room.

There, in the middle of the room, lay an unconscious Jack.

Misha felt her heart stop.


	17. Memory

Gotham General was not a place he'd expected to end up in. Granted, most of the building was now renovated or rebuilt but the point remained. He would have smiled at the irony of it all but his face hurt too much. It took too much effort trying to smile, too much effort trying to even open his own eyes. He could hear Misha talking to someone some to his right but couldn't make any sense of it. There was a strange pounding in his head. As though someone was hitting his head with a hammer over and over again.

Somehow though, between all of the commotion, he heard his wife's voice on top of everything: _"Hang in there!"_

And for reasons unknown to him, she annoyed him. He couldn't focus on anything.

Except that.

Jack was beyond confused.

There was a dull, numbing sensation in his head, something pounding his _freaking_ skull not to mention the fact that everything around him was dark. And that for some reason made him feel very, very uncomfortable. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to his current situation.

Nothing made sense.

There was a distant feeling- almost a reminiscent of a feeling really- of impending doom. As though he was in grave trouble.

Jack didn't think he was in trouble anymore.

He was just hurt.

A lot.

To top it all of, his brain didn't seem to be working particularly well.

Something was wrong with him.

He just couldn't a finger on it.

The dark was getting darker though- if that was possible.

Slowly, Jack felt himself lose conscious once more.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"No."

"Come on, _please_?"

"I said no. And I'm serious."

Bruce sighed, looking heavenwards.

Misha was glaring at him from where she stood, leaned against the walls of the corridor of the intensive care unit of Gotham General. She was also wearing one of her single most determined facial expressions.

It was the sort of facial expression that told Bruce that he was fighting a losing battle. She would not listen. They were wasting time.

"Oh come on," he argued anyway, "they think it's advisable."

"I don't give a rat's arse to what the fucking board thinks of this situation," she snarled at him, anger igniting her face.

Misha was angry at him, and he did not particularly like that, he realized.

There was something very wrong with him.

Bruce rubbed his face with his hands and groaned.

"Fine," he grumbled, "don't come crying to me if they try to fire you."

Misha smirked briefly at him before looking away.

That lifted his spirits immensely. At least she wasn't angry at him anymore.

Bruce decided to change the subject.

"So," he began, racking his brain for any ideas. Surprisingly, he had none which in itself was strange because Bruce Wayne was always exploding with ideas. At least, that's what the reporters said anyway. Bruce wasn't sure if they were being sarcastic or not.

Misha looked up at him again. "What?"

"How're you doing?"

"I'm just... tired I guess," she told him. "I mean, none of this was supposed to happen. But it did. I don't know what to think."

Bruce nodded, leaning against the wall behind him. They stood like that for a while before he spoke once more.

"Think we should try to get them?" he asked cryptically.

Lucky for him, Misha got his statement immediately. "We should. But we need to be sure who it is. There's so much going on. It's not even funny anymore. Not that it was funny in the beginning. We need to know the names of everyone involved. There's a massive risk involved here. They mean business."

"They do," he agreed.

"You think-" Misha stopped before saying, "You think we should tell Jack about this?"

Bruce frowned. "About what?"

"What we're doing?"

That did not sit well with him for some reason. "You want to tell him the world's best kept secret?"

That made her smile but she shrugged it off. "It'll help keep him safe."

"You know that they're kind of after you right?" Bruce asked her.

Misha nodded and he continued, "This was just a statement they made to him. You're the one who needs protecting. We need to focus on that. We can't tell him. We can't even begin to think of how he'd react. What if-" he spoke in a lower voice- "The Joker comes back. Then what would we do?"

"You're right," she admitted, "but we need to stick together. We can't keep him in the dark. I mean, if he'd known, he would've come back with you and then none of this would've..."Her voice trailed off as she stopped speaking.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat as he tried to think of something to speak.

She was right; if Jack _had_ known, he would've come back with him to his penthouse. None of this would have happened.

But it had and Bruce hated himself for letting that happen.

He hated the stress that it put Misha under. He hated the fact that the criminals of this city had managed to get to Jack from right under his nose. He hated that he felt so powerless to stop the situation because really, it was _that_ bad.

"We'll catch them," he told her, "don't worry about it."

Misha smiled a bit.

"Hopefully."

He smiled back at her and then turned to his mobile phone. The text chain with the board of directors was going crazy.

"I need to take a call," he informed her.

She gave him a thumbs up and he directed himself away.

Once out of the immediate vicinity of the intensive care ward, Bruce dialled a number.

"Iona?" he said, greeting the person at the other end.

_"Bruce? Holy shi- I mean, what's going on? Did you find Jack?"_

"Yes, he's at the hospital."

_"Oh- which one? Want me to come over?"_

"Uh, yeah, tell Alfred to drop you to Gotham General. I need you to take care of Misha while I take care of a few things."

_"Gotcha. Over and out."_

She hung up immediately and Bruce waited for her to arrive before he went back to the Bat Cave.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He knew it was all in his head. That much he was sure of.

Because how else could he explain the fact that he was looking at himself- _a younger version of himself at that?_

Yes, it was definitely all in his head.

Unless time travel was made possible somehow and he _knew_ for a fact that it wasn't.

There was also the fact that events that had happened in the past seemed to be happening right in front of him very, very quickly. Quick enough that if he blinked, he'd miss them but he could still understand them.

His entire life was being played out in front of him.

He didn't even know that was possible.

He saw himself grow up first with his parents, and then at foster care. He saw himself meet Jeannie and how all the evil in him died the instant he saw her. He remembered that it was he who had killed his father because of what he did to his mother, he saw himself go to college, adopt a respectable career as a chemical engineer, of dating Jeannie- all the while feeling this itch at the back of his head that wouldn't leave him alone.

The itch remained throughout his life: it was there when he married Jeannie, it was there when he decided to quit work and become a comedian- hoping that maybe that was his true calling. He saw himself fail at it miserably and lose everything he'd worked hard to get within four years and for some reason, his own destruction seemed to satisfy the itch a bit and he thought of it as a sign that comedy was what it would do for him.

There was so much irony in his life, he'd thought. It would be brilliant to become a stand up comedian and laugh about it with everyone.

He witnessed himself sink deeper and deeper, trying to make do, trying to satisfy the itch, Jeannie and all his needs until he snapped and turned to crime.

And strangely enough, for the first time in his life, that itch was gone.

And so he continued and worked for the mob, slowly climbing up the ranks until finally it all blew up.

He lost control.

He'd known that he had a horrible temper.

He'd often tried to control it.

But never in his life had he thought that he could kill someone because of it.

Because that is what he saw himself do to Jeannie.

He killed her.

He left the electric kettle going when they'd fought over their financial status.

And then the house caught fire and she died.

He couldn't even bring himself to attend her funeral.

He just stayed home- whatever remained of it anyway- in shock, trying to process what had happened. After a few days of silence and disbelief, he'd started laughing at the irony.

And that's when it all slowed down.

Jack saw the crazed look of the Joker in his eyes. Slowly, the dark side of his conscious revealed all of his memories of the time he was the Joker.

Jack remembered _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More updates coming soon! I'm horribly behind my stories here:( Hopefully I'll change that in a few days.  
> -SH


	18. Plan of Action

"He's awake," the doctor told her.

Iona pulled herself off the ground, nodding. "Great!" she said, moving towards Misha who had fallen asleep on a bench nearby. As per the usual, Bruce Wayne was nowhere to be seen. "When can we see him?"

"It's up to you at this point," the doctor replied.

Iona nodded as she woke up Misha.

"Is he up?" was the first thing she said and Iona would have found that incredibly funny had it not been for the situation.

"Yeah," she replied instead, "go see him. I'll call Bruce."

Misha nodded and immediately went off to see Jack. Iona pulled out her phone and called Bruce.

"He's up," she told her boss, forgoing all greeting. Most people she knew would have minded it but Bruce- probably because of the stress he was under at the moment- just responded with a "Wait, what?"

Iona sighed. No one ever seemed to get short cuts here, she thought as she elaborated, "Jack's up."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Misha's gone to see him."

"I'll be there."

"Alr-"

He hung up.

Iona glared at her mobile phone before saying, "Would it _kill_ you to say good bye?"

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly enough, it took the doctor approximately three hours to determine whether it was wise or not to let Jack off.

Misha suspected it had more to do with the fact that Bruce was wearing his Mr Pissy (what she had taken to calling serious, business Bruce- courtesy to Iona) face and had assured the good doctor that he could totally make sure that Mr. Napier's needs were met since he was- after all- Bruce Wayne and had had all of the necessary medical equipment shipped to his place in the time it had taken them to have this conversation.

The doctor obliged.

And that is how she, Jack- who was really quiet for some reason-, Iona and Bruce ended walking to the underground parking of the hospital and got inside a van because safety.

There was some sort of tension in the air which Iona quite gracefully (though that adjective in itself was questionable because this was Iona she was talking about) managed to destroy.

"That. Was. Awesome."

Even Jack let out a chuckle at that one. Misha reached for his hand and squeezed it. Jack smiled in return which she reciprocated. They'd be spending a lot of time talking when they got back to Bruce's pent house.

"And exactly what about that was 'awesome'?" Bruce asked Iona. If Misha didn't know better, she'd say that Bruce was subtly (or not) flirting with her college friend.

"Well, like the part where you just went into a complete monotone and informed the doctor everything which honestly everyone already knew but somehow, it seemed as though you were- like- the only person in the room who knew what was happening," she explained, oblivious to the fact that Gotham's richest man might be flirting with her, "and then- have you really shipped in all of the medical equipment required in the time it took for you guys to talk? Because that is _so_ cool."

Bruce chuckled and proceeded to respond.

"Is Bruce Wayne flirting with Iona?" Jack whispered to her.

"Yup," she answered.

"This is so weird."

"You're telling me."

The nurse/driver person came and closed the van's back door and started to drive.

"Exactly why are we all inside a medical ambulance?" Iona asked.

"We've created a distraction by making it seem as though I've already left with Misha and you and that Jack's still in the hospital," Bruce informed her, "so that anyone who wants to harm any of us doesn't get a chance to."

Iona nodded but said nothing, even though Misha could tell that she had questions.

They had only just hit the main road on route to Bruce's pent house when an explosion nearby rocked their vehicle.

"What the hell was that?" Iona was the first one to ask.

"Damn it, how'd they find out," Bruce growled before quickly dialling a number on his phone.

"Keep driving faster," Misha told the man on the wheel.

"With pleasure," he responded. Even though he was clad in the hospital's uniform, his voice appeared distinctly like Jim Gordon's.

"Buckle up," he went on, as the ambulance sped up.

At the moment another explosion came- this time closer to them. "Who's doing this?" Iona asked.

"Harley Quinn, Riddler, Penguin- we have three nominees and that's assuming Poison Ivy isn't on this," Bruce said, "yet."

"Well, _shit_."

The ride to Bruce's pent house was turbulent but they managed to pull it off. At the entrance of the building, Bruce called, "Get cover, I'll be there."

Misha, Jack and Iona ran inside.

"What's he doing?" Iona wanted to know, seeing through the glass door that Bruce was just- well- standing there.

"He can take care of himself," Misha informed her as she pulled her into the elevator.

"But how- they're villains. Like fucking super villains."

"And he's Batman," Jack shrugged casually before freezing. "Well, _shit_."

Misha stared at him in shock. "How do you know that?"

"I've known for a while," he said, "I didn't get a chance to tell you."

"Well, tell me about it. How'd you fin-"

"He's Batman?" Iona repeated, bringing the attention back to herself.

"Well, yes, yes he is," Misha retorted. "You shouldn't've have told her," she told Jack.

"Excuse you!" Iona scowled. And then, "Still. How the fuck is he Batman?"

"You know, you're overreacting," Jack informed her. The elevator opened up at Bruce's pent house where Alfred was waiting for them.

"Who's overreacting?" he asked. "Evening all."

"Iona," Jack and Misha responded in union.

"But Bruce Wayne is Batman!" Iona argued in shock.

"We all know that," Alfred shrugged.

"How is everyone so chill here?" she asked stepping into the living space/ kitchen hybrid.

"It takes some getting used to Miss Sterling," Alfred informed her, "now where is Master Wayne?"

"He was outside dealing with them," Misha said.

"Ah, lovely, anyone want tea?"

 

* * *

 

"I don't get it," Iona was saying. "It doesn't add up. How is Bruce Wayne Batman?"

Alfred chuckled but proceeded to tell her the details- how as a young boy Bruce wanted vengeance for his parents' death, how that vengeance had evolved to a greater love for the city of Gotham itself. Misha had already heard the story twice and decided to check on Jack. She walked up to the couch he was sitting on as he surfed the channels on TV wearing a thoroughly bored expression.

"How'd you find out?" she repeated.

Jack looked surprised and shifted a little on his seat to give her space.

"Found what?"

"Batman."

"Oh."

He turned his attention back to the telly but felt her eyes on him and faced her once more.

"What?"

Misha said nothing, just giving him a significant look.

"Oh right," he laid back in his seat, "you want to know. It's nothing incredible. I just found out."

"How?"

"Well," he hesitated, "I saw you guys talking... and he was still in his Batman armour thing."

"When did that happen?" she asked. They were always so careful about Batman's identity. How had he managed to find out?

"A while ago," he admitted, taking her arm and tracing her wrist.

"There's something else I need to tell you," he told her in a much more serious tone.

"What is it?"

He pulled her closer to him and said one simple phrase, "I remember."

Misha felt her heart stop for a moment.

"Wh-what?"

There was something strange in his eyes as he repeated once more, "I remember everything."

"But how?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I think something at the warehouse triggered it."

"Do you remember what happened at the warehouse?" Misha asked him.

Jack gave her a strange look. "Of course I do," he said, "Why wouldn't I?"

She said nothing, choosing to rest her head on his chest as he stroked her hair and browsed through the television.

"You don't need to be worried," Jack told her, "I know what I've done. I'll make sure never to repeat the same mistakes again."

He probably meant it in a good way but for some reason, the promise caused a chill to run down her spine. Misha wasn't sure if it had something to do with the fact that Jack was extremely calm- after all, even she had been traumatized when she learned about some of the lesser gory that the Joker had committed.

Maybe she should speak to Bruce about it later.

"So," she continued, "what're you going to do about it?"

"About?"

"You remember stuff. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Jack looked upwards as though he was thinking, "Nothing particular," he informed her, "let's just say, I'd rather block out everything I've done."

That relieved her greatly. "So is there anything I need to be worried about?"

"No."

"Well, then it's a good thing, right?"

"Yes. _Really_ good."


	19. The Deal

Gotham City is not meant to be safe at night.

Or so, Jack was always told.

Turned out, living in The Narrows most of his life had rendered him invincible against most of the 'horrors' of the night. That, or it was his Joker side taking over.

Jack chose to ignore all such notions and continued his trek down the road. If he remembered correctly- and yes, he did often remember things correctly- Gordon's house was only three more junctions away. Last time he was at Gordon's, he'd managed to convince Harvey Dent that kidnapping his family was the best way to go about his misplaced sense of vengeance for the death of that chick everyone liked.

Jack didn't remember her name.

He did, however, know that Misha reminded Bruce of her.

And for some reason, that made the Joker cackle. Jack could hear his voice in his head but everything was under control.

For now.

He wasn't the victim of a dual personality disorder like the doctors had initially thought.

No, he _was_ the Joker.

There was no two sides to him; the Joker was always there.

Like he was right now.

The Joker was his own conscious talking to him.

Most people had a conscious like that.

Only, it was less murderous.

The Joker did not want blood at the moment though.

He was happy, Jack realized.

Maybe stability was all that he had wanted his entire life. He wished he had met Misha earlier. That could have prevented the deaths of so many people but then- what had Misha been like two decades ago?

_How old was she even?_

And yes, that was the Joker. He was naming his conscious Joker.

_But that's a bad joke._

He agreed.

If he could turn back time and still keep his current knowledge of things, he'd go straight to New York to be with her. Of course, now that he thought about it, there was a big chance that Misha would have been happy at that point in her life. When did her parents die again? When she was- _what_?- twelve years old?

It occurred to him that he did not know much about his own wife even though she knew a lot about him. But then, he had the police, Bruce and so many other people to blame for it. Jack made a mental note about digging into Misha's past. Good companionship only came when both individuals understood each other completely, and he was well aware of the fact that he did not know Misha as well as she knew him.

After crossing the last junction, he finally arrived at Gordon's home.

Jack looked around, making sure that he wasn't being followed- by criminals (since they liked doing that a lot these days) or everyone's favourite Halloween crusader- before knocking on his door.

He heard the sound of footsteps- a child's footsteps judging by the abrupt and light sounds- and then the door opened.

"Yes...?" A child of about twelve or thirteen opened the door, freezing when he saw him. "Y-you..."

It occurred to Jack that the kid was scared of him because of his scars. He really hated those scars. He never understood why he did that to himself to begin with.

_Plastic surgery is a viable option._

Jack willed his conscious to shut up.

"I'm Jack," he introduced himself, "can I see your dad?"

The boy looked at him suspiciously.

"Won't hurt him," he assured him before realizing how bad his choice of words were. "I just... uhh, need to speak to him. You can stay. Nothing will happen to him."

While he was attempting to convince the kid that nothing would happen to his father, Gordon himself appeared.

"What're you doing here?" He seemed more surprised. "Come on in. Jim, let him in."

The boy reluctantly stepped out of the way and Jack stepped into his house.

"I wasn't expecting you," Gordon admitted, sitting on the nearest chair, gesturing Jack to do the same.

"Jim, why don't you go up and play video games?" he asked his son who nodded slowly before running upstairs.

"I don't know what's gotten into him," he told Jack, trying to make small talk, "normally he won't shut up."

Jack didn't even make an attempt to smile. "I think it's because of the..." he pointed at his face with one hand.

"No, it's probab-" Gordon tried counter but Jack interrupted him.

"I think we both know that it's the scars," he said and Gordon stopped protesting.

"We can't change the past now, can we?" he sighed instead.

Jack allowed himself to smile at that. Yup, definitely depressed.

"Well, true," he agreed, "which is why I have proposition for you."

Gordon raised a brow. "What sort of proposition?"

"I know the Bat's already got you into a deal to clean this city," he informed him. Once again, Gordon tried to deny it but Jack shrugged him off. "No, it's okay. I know who the Bat is. And I want to help." That caught his attention.

"Help?" Gordon repeated.

"Yeah, help. But no one can know," he said, "it's crucial that no one finds out."

"Go on," Gordon said, leaning forward.

"I remember everything that I've done as the Joker," he told him, "every crime I've committed, every deal I've made, every criminal I've worked with. Everything. And that's why they've been so interested in getting me back. I could destroy the entire network."

"And do you want to do that?" Gordon whispered, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"Yes."

"Do you realize what you're thinking of doing?"

"To be honest, I've been trying to help for a very long time," Jack admitted, "my therapist and I would try to bring back the Joker so I could control him. Use him to my advantage. Of course, Dr Abbott is dead now. And since everyone already knows that the mafia and every other bad guy in Gotham is after me, it's really stupid to pretend to be the Joker again. I can, however, give you the information you need to slowly take the bad guys out. One by one."

"You'd give us the information for free? How can I trust you?"

"I know the mole in your police force."

That made Gordon stop. "There's in a mole in my police force?" That was news to him!

"Yeah, how'd you think the Joker always was two steps ahead of you guys?"

"Who is this?"

"I'll give you the name if you agree on one- well, two conditions."

Gordon thought for a moment. He and Bruce had been wanting to do this for a very long time. Everything he'd ever wanted in order to take the crime system down, Jack was offering that to him.

"What're the conditions?"

"Misha is kept under surveillance at all times. And Batman can't know."

"What do you mean 'Batman can't know'?" Gordon objected. "He'll be one of the few who take them down."

"Which leaves him in a very dangerous position," Jack told him, "if anyone even suspects that I'm in on this- or that the Bat is getting inside information, all of this will blow up. I'm just being cautious."

Gordon did not look convinced so Jack tried a different approach.

"Listen, I'm sick of this," he went on, "I'm tired of being hunted as the Joker. I just want to be _normal_ and settle down; have a family with my wife. The last few weeks have taught me that that can't happen unless all of these villains are behind bars. I want to be able to go out in public with my wife without the threat of a hundred hit men trying to kill us- I'm sure you want that too. And this is how we can do this. Which is why it needs to be a secret. No one can know unless it's absolutely necessary. You get that, Gordon?"

Gordon hesitated for a moment but then said, "You're right. I'm tired of dealing with these low lives. If that's your price, then I'm willing to do it. Now, who is the mole in my team?"

"It's Jensen."

Gordon's eyes widened. "J-Jensen? He's been with me for a decade! His services to the force are exemplary! Are you telling me tha-?"

"Yup, that's what made him such a perfect mole," Jack said, "and he's not the only one. Terrence and Riley are on it too."

Gordon became silent after that. Experience told Jack that he was witnessing the man's silent rage.

Then, he spoke. "Those ass holes," Gordon spat, "I trusted them! To think they've been working against me- against the force this whole time! AARGH! That makes me so mad! And disgusted! Sell outs! All of them! Who're they working for?"

"Jensen's my guy," he told him, "but he's working for Harley and her crazies for now. As for Terrence and Riley- they're working for Maroni. You might want to get rid of them subtly. Like, give them some weird assignment. Or get the Bat to expose them. Or else, Maroni might be suspicious."

"Hmm," Gordon thought aloud. "I could arrange something- don't worry. But what's to come after that?"

Jack slipped a piece of paper to him. "I'll be in touch," he told him, "get rid of them first and then wait a few weeks. We can't start working immediately in case someone was already following me. The last thing I want is them realizing that I've remembered everything. Is that okay with you?"

Gordon nodded and Jack could tell by the way he was visibly shaken that this was all too exciting for him. He was ready to play by his rules.

_Perfect._

"Later?" Jack said, standing up.

Gordon followed suit and showed him to the door. "So we'll get on with it later?" he repeated.

Jack nodded.

"Say hello to Misha for me?"

"Yes. Good bye, commissioner."

The door shut behind him and Jack started to walk. He had only crossed the first junction from Gordon's house that he started to walk slowly. The crowd of people had decreased significantly since it had passed the office hours and there was only a couple walking in front of him.

_Behind him, on the other hand..._

Jack took a sudden turn to his left and ran into the alley. He was distinctly aware of the fact that he was being followed.

He ran faster and climbed the emergency staircase of the building and made a steep jump to the other building. His stalker was not far behind. Jack would deal with him, he decided, heck- Joker would deal with him but it had to be in the Narrows.

No one would pick up an odd Joker style murder in the Narrows. There were too many copycats there. And so, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him- the adrenaline rush from the old days keeping him going- until he reached the old neighbourhood and through the maze of run down flats, managed to secure an abandoned alley of his choice.

He pretended to be worried as he waited for his stalker to catch up. In reality, he was just discretely taking out his favourite knife.

And _yes_ , he even remembered where he'd hidden all his favourite toys now.

Which was great for him, but really sorry for his stalker.

When the fiend was near enough to attack, Jack turned to face him.

"Well, well, well, look at the kitty which fell in the tiger's trap," he smiled wildly before slashing the man's face. Blood spluttered on the wall and onto the back door of the apartment ahead.

Jack peered down in disgust at the man as he cleaned his knife.

He didn't want to kill people; but this guy- this was 'ole Billy. He'd worked with this low life before. He deserved to die.

And besides, he couldn't have anyone meddling with his plans.

The rest would think that he died in a drug bust or something.

Billy _did_ have a lot of enemies after all.

No one would suspect him; no one knew that he was back.

_Yet._


	20. Death Threat & Wine

There were just so many things Batman could ignore and Jack going to Gordon's house was one of them. Luckily, Gordon- despite of his word to Jack- called Batman immediately after the meeting.

"So he knows everything?" he asked him once more.

"He claims to," Gordon said, "he also knows who you are."

"That he does," Batman agreed.

"Should that not worry you? He is the Joker after all."

"I highly doubt that. So what's the plan? Are you using him?"

"I am because, turns out, there's a mole- or should I say,  _three_  moles in my department alone. We need to clean up before we try to clean this city and he's letting us do it."

"Any reason why he said that?"

"He wants a normal life. He wants to be able to go in public with his wife without people talking shit about him."

"Ah." That made sense. "Well then, allow him to do whatever it is that he wants. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on him but he doesn't need to know that. Hopefully this plan'll work."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, "hopefully."

"I'll see you later at the usual then," Batman stated before leaving.

As for Gordon, he was just happy that he had finished a conversation before leaving.

For once.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning came and Misha made no attempt to leave her room in Bruce's pent house. Jack, on the other hand, who was universally scorned for being a late raiser was up and about. Not only that, but he woke up early for a change. Earlier than their alarm.

Which Misha found thoroughly fascinating in itself because Jack's internal clock always read bedtime until he was forced to get up and move on with the day.

So she was very, very surprised when she finally got out of bed and she found him exercising.

"What the hell, Jack?" she commented groggily before padding off to their bathroom.

"Nothing," he told her, following her.

He peered inside the bathroom to find her vomiting.

Jack frowned. "Are you alright, Misha?"

"What?"

"You're throwing up," he stated.

Misha rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am," she responded, groggily, "People do that sometime."

"Are you feeling well?" he asked her, walking across the room towards her. He felt her forehead but it wasn't warm.

"You don't feel sick," he commented, "was it something you ate?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She walked towards the wash basin and washed her hands. Jack continued to watch her as she went about her business.

"Do you want to visit the doctor?" he asked her.

Misha shot him a questioning look. "And why would you suggest that...?"

"You're rarely sick," he explained, "and when you are, you don't look tired. Are you sure you're not coming down with something serious?"

Misha groaned. "I'm sure it's just the stress of the past few days finally getting to me," she said, "like so much happened in the last couple of days." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Everything's fine, Jack. Chill." She kissed him on the lips. It took a moment for him to respond but even then he ended it shortly.

"I think you should still go to the doctor," he stated.

"If I'm not well by tomorrow, I will," she informed him. "Does that make you feel better?"

Jack nodded. "It makes me feel much better."

They got ready- well, Misha got ready. Jack just observed her which, though wasn't exactly new to her, but it unnerved her just the same. It reminded her of when he used to be the Joker. When he'd initially been left to recover at her apartment all those years ago, he'd done the same thing in the first few days: observe her, get to know her timetable and then assess whether she was a threat or not.

Misha did not like being reminded of those days.

She quickly did her make up- just barely did her make up since she spent five minutes on that only and called to Jack, "Breakfast?"

That seemed to do the trick; he got up from his perch on their bed and held out his hand to her.

Misha took it and then they went into the dining room.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred was there which was fine since breakfast was already laid out and the last thing she wanted was Jack telling Bruce about her "sickness." Her husband might be overprotective but her boss was an overkill. She most certainly did not want a "sick leave" at this time of the year.

Specially when the audits and customer reviews were due.

They did their breakfast fairly quietly though Jack did stop her when she tried to drink cold water.

"What?"

"You're not feeling well," he answered before putting the jug away.

Misha murmured something vile about husbands being overly protective rather loudly under her breath but that just make Jack grin.

Sometimes she wished she had it in her to punch and/or slap that treacherous grin off his face.

 

* * *

 

 

Work went slowly for Misha.

Something was definitely up since Bruce had not turned up at work, breaking his twenty eight week streak rather incredibly. To make matters weirder even Iona wasn't at work. She wondered what was happening and that if it really was a coincidence that both were gone at the same time.

Naturally Misha decided to investigate.

"Claire," she asked the building manager on her way to Bruce's office to pick up some files, "do you have any idea why Bruce isn't in?"

Claire was an elderly lady with wild purple-silver hair and rhinestone glasses. She wore bright clothes and incredibly funky shoes. Overall she gave this crazy cat lady vibe- according to Iona- but she was nice and Misha respected her.

She was basically Iona's role model too.

Apparently Iona wanted to age the way she had.

Misha waited for Claire to answer.

"Bruce?" she thought aloud, tapping her chin with her index finger. She typed in a few keys (or was it a million- Misha didn't know; she typed really fast) into the computer before saying, "Well, he's actually having a meeting with someone called Diana Prince. And all of us know what that means. He scheduled it though. So I'm guess it's somewhat official."

Misha frowned. She had scheduled a meeting with the lady for last week. He had attended the meeting. Why was Bruce using that as a cover?

"Oh, well- wow," was all she managed to say. Then a minute later, "Can I know Iona's new project?"

"Sure."

A few more clicks later, Claire said, "She's gone to see Diana Prince with Mr. Wayne. Says here they needed 'tech assistant.' Now that's just strange. Diana Prince is a dealer- what does tech have anything to do with that?"

"Maybe she's scanning those paintings, making sure they're real," Misha suggested. "Thanks."

Claire smiled. "No problem," she said before turning back to her computer. Then after a moment, added,"Congrats, by the way!"

"For what?" Misha asked her, confused.

Claire beamed at her. "OH! You don't know yet. Well, I won't spoil it."

Misha frowned but continued her trek to Bruce's office.

Was there a promotion in store for her? she wondered.

* * *

"So do we have a deal?" Jack asked him.

Carl Knox- leader of the Narrows drug mafia called 2.0- shook his head rapidly in agreement. "Y-yes, b-b-b-boss," he managed to stutter, "A-a-anything for you."

Jack smiled.

"Good," he said in his Joker voice- and yes, that's what he liked calling it- as he lowered the knife he was holding. "Now remember, don't get caught."

The man repeated his gesture once more.

"O-of course," he answered.

"Can you repeat what I've asked you?"

"K-kill th-the po-poli-ic-ice o-o-fficer-cers," he told him, his voice shaking uncontrollably, "a-and m-make s-sure t-t-that n-no eviden- evidence r-remains."

Joker's smile got wider. "Perfect! Gold star for you!"

"Now, what are the names of the police officers you're supposed to kill?" he asked him, stepping forward menacingly.

The man hit his head against the wall of the alley they were in when he stepped back, shrinking in fear.

"J-Joseph Sugg, A-Arnold Trevor a-and H-Harry Jones."

"Excellent. And when can I expect the results...?"

"O-on T-tuesday n-n-night," he replied. "Please don't kill my family!"

Jack looked heavenwards. "I won't kill your family," he shrugged, "I'll just-" He did a shooting gesture with his hands. "-make 'em see stars. That doesn't hurt. Not. One. Bit."

Carl gulped. "N-no, don't do that!"

"Well then do your job, ass hole."

He nodded his head once more.

Jack rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of this pathetic man.

"Good, I trust you. Now fuck off."

The man scrambled out of the alley leaving Jack to laugh all by himself.

After a good few minutes, he finally stopped.

"It's good to be back," he admitted to himself as he began to wipe the face paint on his face with the help of the tissue papers and a water bottle he'd brought earlier. Even though everyone knew what he looked like without the make up, Jack still liked wearing it.

It made him seem scarier.

And boy, did he like scaring people.

He admitted that he didn't like doing it this way. He preferred keeping the Joker out of this altogether but he reckoned that he couldn't afford the moles going free and taking up new identities. He couldn't have anyone infiltrate anyone anymore.

He was double crossing the police by having them killed but- quite frankly- he did not agree with the Gotham brand of justice. He had to make sure that his plan was perfect. He didn't want this kind of life anymore. Therefore, he was willing to dig deep and dirty even if it meant that all the criminals in Gotham would see justice. True justice.

His brand of manipulation and pitting one against the other had worked so far. Violence had declined and people were beginning to notice this. Naturally everyone thought it was Batman's doing and Jack was willing to let him take the credit for it if it meant that he could succeed in his plans.

 _After this is over,_  he thought,  _I'll never use the Joker again_.

Or maybe not.

He would still need the Joker humour for bad jokes.

He may or may not still want to be a comedian.

He did know that he couldn't rid himself of the Joker forever since he was the Joker and so had decided to redirect his homicidal urges elsewhere. Such as the destruction of the villains of Gotham.

The plan was working so far.

Jack contemplated the next stages of his plan as he walked out of the alley.

He walked down the street, away from the Narrows and towards the place where he and Misha lived. On his way, he saw a shop where the display of boxes of chocolate and wine caught his eye.

Jack stepped into the store.

He had only made his way towards the displays when a salesgirl approached him. "Welcome to Florence's Chocol-" she began her routine introduction but stopped when she realized who he was.

"I know who you are," she said in a lower tone, her eyes wide and shocked.

Jack assessed her quickly before saying, "Annd?"

"Your scars are real!" she commented, prompting Jack to touch them. He didn't like it when people brought that up.

"Yes," he said not sure where this was coming from.

"So did you actually end up marrying the girl who basically harboured you from the police?"

Her questions were starting to irritate him a lot now. His left eye twitched but he managed to keep his temper under control. That was another thing that was happening these days.

The more he used the Joker side of him, the more impatient he was becoming.

But then, Misha was generally impatient with people as well.

Maybe she was influencing him.

"Yes," he snapped, "and I want to get something from here so can you please stop asking me questions and help me pick out a damned box of chocolates?"

That must have come off a little too harshly since the girl flinched but smiled weakly. "Yeah, sure."

Jack looked heavenwards. "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately, "I am so tired of people asking me that."

She raised her hands in surrender. "It's fine. Totally get it. Now, do you want like a mixed assortment or just one type of chocolate?"

"I think mixed is good," Jack said, "I admit I don't really know what kind of chocolates she likes."

The girl raised a brow but said nothing.

It occurred to Jack that even though he knew her story, Misha was still a mystery to him. He didn't know what she liked, her hobbies or even much about childhood. Granted, she didn't know much about him either but she always seemed to  _know_  things.

He knew what his evening plans were.


	21. Unexpected Surprise

"So where were you guys?" she asked her on the phone as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Bruce had finally deemed it safe for her and Jack to move back into her apartment. The announcement was sudden but both Misha and Jack were happy about it. Only yesterday evening did they get a chance to see their apartment again. Even though Bruce had talked about a raid, nothing in her apartment had seemed out of place.

Of course, that could just be Bruce's team.

The home décor part of employee services were very good at their jobs. Misha was told that all her belongings would be transferred from Bruce's place in the morning. She hoped they had done a good job of putting her things in place as well. The last thing she wanted to do after a tiring, boring day at work was unpack.

"Security breach," Iona responded. "I'd tell you more but I don't think it's my place. Bruce'll let you know."

"Oh," Misha said, disappointed. She was hoping to get information out of Iona but her friend was clearly not buying it. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Ciao."

She hung up her phone and entered her apartment.

The smell of food told her that Jack was already home.

"I can't tell what you're making," she said on her way to the kitchen.

Jack smirked. "Good. Because it'll be a surprise then."

Misha frowned a little but said nothing as she quickly went to change. When she came out, Jack had already set dinner up in front of the telly.

"What's this?" she asked him.

He said nothing, only moving out of the way as he plopped onto one side of the couch.

"Dinner," he finally said.

Misha raised a brow. "Delivery pizza?" she asked, confused.

"And chocolates," he added, pointing at the little box of treats that sat at the corner of the coffee table.

"I am so confused right now," she admitted as she settled down beside him. "I thought you were making dinner."

"I was," Jack responded. "Until I realized that there's something better I'd be doing."

"Like what?"

"Well," he began as he produced a bottle of wine from his side of the couch and proceeded to open it. "I was coming home today and saw this shop-" He poured her a glass before doing so for himself. "-that sold chocolates and this good wine. And the salesperson asked me the strangest thing."

Misha spoke, worriedly, "About the Joker? People really need to get over that. It's been over a year!"

Jack grinned. "Exactly. She didn't do that though."

"So? What was the problem then?" Misha frowned, not quite sure where this was going.

"Well, she asked me what kind of chocolates you like," Jack informed her very seriously, "and I couldn't answer her."

Misha smiled coyly, immediately taking hint where this was going. "Oh. Why d'you think that is?"

He handed her the glass. "I think that's because we hardly ever talk about ourselves when we're alone," he told her, "it's always  _'Iona'_  or _'Bruce'_  or  _'Iona's ex-boyfriend'_  or the lady who lives across from us who- by the way, what happened to Carlisle? He was nice," he added at the end, diverging from the topic entirely.

Even though Misha realized what had happened, she grinned and answered, "He was cheating on her with this other girl."

"Yikes."

"I know, Iona's shit at finding a nice guy."

"Is that why she's interested in Wayne?"

"Oh no-  _Wayne's_  interested in  _her_. She's always oblivious to the good guys and likes them ass holes. And  _then_  she comes crying to  _me_."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. That's basically Iona's life in a nutshell."

"Woah- I mean s _ee_ ," Jack redirected himself, "this is what  _always_  happens! We end up talking about our friends."

"Relax," Misha said, "we're like a normal married couple talking about all our single friends. It's natural." Then, " _Do you want to reinforce our married couple stereotype by trying to set them up?"_

Jack blinked. _"What?"_

"Nothing."

"You have the weirdest ideas sometimes you know?"

Misha nodded as she took a sip from her glass. "It was totally wor-"

She stopped short as she felt a disgusting bile in her throat. Her eyes became watery and before she knew it, Misha had thrown up on their couch.

Jack reacted immediately and reached for the napkins.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Again, she nodded.

Once the mess was cleaned, Jack tried his own glass. "Seems alright to me," he told her.

Misha shrugged. "Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"You've done this thrice this week alone," Jack said, "Shouldn't you go to the doctor?"

"I'll do that tomorrow," she agreed. "So, pizza?"

Jack looked uncertain. "You sure? You kind of just threw up."

"Yeah but it's probably the wine," she said, "I haven't had one in a while."

"Oh shit, I should've asked," he immediately apologized.

"Not your fault," she said, taking a slice of the pizza and eating it. A moment passed as she chewed and she noticed that Jack was looking at her, almost waiting for her to throw up.

"I'm not gonna throw up, you dork," she said and he laughed.

"Fine," he said, taking a bite of his slice as well. "Man, I missed pizza."

Misha stared at him strangely. "You only haven't had it in a week."

"I know."

She shook her head.  _Really, Jack could be so childish sometimes!_

"So what's the occasion again?"

"To us," he said. " _Anndd_  I wanna know what kind of chocolates you like. You know," he gestured to the box of treats with his chin, "in case I have to get some next time."

Misha laughed as she told him.

 

* * *

 

 

"And that's it?" Iona asked her. "No incredibly awesome sex afterwards?"

Misha choked on her juice. "Why would you say that?" she asked her upon recovery.

"I'm sorry," she replied, "I  _assumed_  something juicy would happen given how you told me about this."

Misha scrunched up her nose. "Even if anything happened why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm your best friend?" Iona reasoned.

"Yeah right," Misha muttered, rolling her eyes. She stood up from her seat in the cafeteria and Iona followed.

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No, I have a doctor's appointment," Misha informed her. "I'm just going to it earlier than I planned."

"So you are mad at me."

"Mad-ish," Misha admitted.

They were outside Wayne Enterprises now.

"I'll come with," Iona volunteered.

Misha looked heavenwards. "Oh c'mon, it's just a routine check up."

"How so?"

"I've been throwing up a lot lately whenever I have something I don't normally have," she told her, "Jack thinks I'm coming down with something."

Iona listened to her intently for a moment before her face broke into a grin.

Misha raised a brow. "What?"

"You don't need a doctor to tell you this you idiot," she said.

"How so?"

"Dude, don't you get it?" Iona asked her.

"Get what?"

"You're pregnant!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Misha's eyes widened in disbelief. "Whaat? No!"

"Of course!" Iona argued. "You said it yourself; you've been throwing up whenever you have stuff you don't normally eat. Classic pregnancy symptom!"

"That's classic TV pregnancy symptom," she argued, "I can't be pregnant..." Her voice trailled off as she began to think.

Misha shuddered. No, no- this could  _ **not**  _be happening to her. This was  _literally_  the worst time. EVER.

"You're wrong," she told Iona, "it can't be."

Iona was grinning even widely now. "Oh no, it is."

"If it is, I'm going to kill you."

"Kill Jack, not me," she retorted raising her hands in surrender.

Misha narrowed her eyes but said nothing as she waited for a cab to arrive.

"I'll kill both of you," she informed her curtly.

Iona broke into laughter. "Done. Jack and then me. Will you guys make me the god mother?  _Pleeeeaaassse_ , make me the godmother!"

"I haven't thought of that yet," Misha said through gritted teeth.

"I don't see why you're so upset," Iona said.

"It's not that I'm upset it's just that- UGH! I had so much planned out," she admitted. "This is not how I was expecting my year to turn out."

"You know, Jack is ridiculously supportive," Iona pointed out.

"Fuck Jack," Misha's temper flared. "I hate this. I don't know how to cope!"

"Hey, it's fine. All pregnant women are emotional."

Misha gave her a death glare. "Oh c'mon. I am not pregnant. I can't be."

A cab arrived and Misha took.

"Don't say I didn't say so," Iona called to her as she waved good bye.

Misha growled at her but said nothing as the cab sped away, leaving her friend alone as she doubled over in laughter.\

She hoped it wasn't true.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack was distinctly aware of being followed but he kept going on as though nothing was the matter.

He did not like the fact that the men following him were wearing the very Joker masks he demanded  _his_  men to wear. That meant only one thing: Harley was regrouping his henchmen.

It seemed natural though, now that he thought of it. Without the Joker in town, it was only logical that Harley would take over his men. But who would take the role of Gotham's Clown Prince of Chaos?

Harley just wasn't long-sighted or experienced enough for the role.

He wondered if any of the other freaks had any ideas. Maybe Poison Ivy?

Jack sighed guiltily as he remembered the debt he owed her. He was sure Harley was the only reason she hadn't come to kill him yet.

Boy, had he screwed up big time.

 _But I am going to fix this,_  he told himself, clutching the grocery bags more tightly.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

He turned a sudden corner into a shady alley and walked until he reached the end of it where he set the bags in a corner.

"I know you're here for me," he informed the men, allowing the Joker to takeover.

He turned to face the men, pulling his favourite knife out as well.

"Well?" he asked. "Got anything to say for yourselves?"

The men stepped back a foot.

"So it's true," one of them gasped, "the rumours are true; you're  _back_."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I was never gone."

Their eyes widened.

"You tricked the cops," the other said.

"Nope," he said, stepping closer and closer, "I just don't care about petty things anymore. Drugs, murder...it's too boring. Why're you here?"

"H-Harley wa-wanted to let you know that t-they want you b-back," the latter spoke once more. "W-we were supposed to get you."

"Well, what's stopping you?" Jack mocked them.

"Y-you're  _him_."

"Duh." He rolled his eyes. "I love it when y'all are scared of me. Can you please send a message to your bosses? Tell 'em to leave me alone. I don' do this shit no more. I've retired. I'm done."

The men held their ground, taking out their guns.

Joker looked heavenwards. "Why do you have to make this more difficult?" he asked them before charging at them.

Surprisingly, he felt no guilt in killing these goons.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd recognised them.

He knew that Ian was a convicted sex offender and that Steven was a paedophile.

It disgusted him that he would associate with such people once upon a time.

And that's why it felt so good.

He didn't have Batman's one golden rule: And that's why only  _he_  could truly save Gotham.


	22. What Jack's Really Planning

"I'm here," Jack called as he entered the dark warehouse. He was nervous, yes- given his past experience at an abandoned warehouse but the Joker was able to keep it at bay. Surprisingly, he was calm and confident and that- he suspected- came from the Joker too.

Heavens knew the amount of times he'd done this as the madman.

He wondered if he was overstepping his boundary but then, he  _was_  the Joker.

Overstepping boundaries was kind of his thing.

He would have laughed at that even though it was a lame joke and Misha hated lame jokes. Speaking of Misha- he really hoped she had visited the doctor like he asked her. He'd been asking her to do that for a while.

As usual she wasn't listening.

He decided to take her himself if she didn't go today. It only made sense.

What did not make sense, however, was the fact that he was literally walking into the lion's den.

He owed these people  _debts_ , he reminded himself. And not money debt at that.

These people-  _monsters-_  kept him up late at night at Arkham; why, he'd even had nightmares about the horrible things they could do to him and his wife.

 _What was he thinking?_  He shouldn't've come here alone, his conscious screamed. But the Joker persona was back.

Jack was on high alert now.

"Well, where is everybody?"

To his immense relief, it wasn't Bane who spoke. It was Ivy and, even though she scared him as well, he could deal with her.

"Look who's back," she said humourlessly. "I see our little trick worked."

A single light bulb shone across the room and Jack saw that she wasn't alone.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Mad Hatter, Clayface, Hugo Strange, Penguin and Harley were all with her.

Jack had to restrain himself from taking a step back.

This was bad.

Luckily, the Joker liked it bad.

"Is the entire circus here for my entertainment?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Put a sock in it, clown," Tweedledee said.

"That's funny coming from someone who literally looks like a clown," he quipped.

Tweedledee took a step forward but the Mad Hatter held him back.

"So, it's true," he commented, "you're back."

"I am," the Joker responded, "What do you want?"

"For starters, you owe us," Poison Ivy spoke, "you were supposed to destroy this city so we could rebuild it. What happened?"

"Is this you talking, or is it the big guy?" he asked.

"Both."

"I wanted to destroy this city before it came to me that I'm wasting time," he said to her, "this city can't be destroyed. The Shadow people tried; they failled- multiple times. How can I succeed if all these super sane people didn't?"

The Penguin stepped forward. "So what do you think we should do?"

"What we always do," the Joker said. Silence overtook the room. Jack could practically see their minds working, thinking- what was it that the Joker was proposing? Why didn't it make sense?  _Because it's not supposed to,_  he thought. "It won't work either," he shrugged.

"Also, I totally don't wanna work with ya'll anymore," he said.

"Excuse me!" It was Harley. "Don't tell me you've grown fond of the 'ordinary', Mistah J!"

"Oh believe me- I have," he agreed, a sick grin forming on his face. "I have. And the " _ordinary"_ \- as you call it- will burn this city. It's only a matter of time."

"What do you mean?" Hugo Strange asked.

"It means that we kill this city from the inside out," the Joker explained, "we don't do anything. We do it  _discreetly_. Of course- the question arises,  _can crazies do ordinary things?_  So thought to myself, and believe me- I haven't seen you guys because I was  _thinking_. How do I destroy this city without coming under the police's radar? Well, I don't. I just sit it out. Take my sweet time. Don't you see what's happening? This city doesn't need the Joker to take it down. You guys were also in prison until recently. And believe me- even without us, this city is going  **down**. We just make it go down faster. We could do it the  _fun_  way, or we could do the  ** _normal way._**

'Oh, and by the way, by  _'normal'_ -" his hands danced along as he spoke"-I mean this  _thing_  that you guys are doing.  _Whatever it's called. It's_   ** _boring_**."

"What do you suggest we do then?" Poison Ivy asked.

"Do what you do- you know, kill people. That's  _soo_  boring. And I'll do what I'm doing," he said, "I deserve an Oscar for what I'm doing. Just sayin'."

Hugo Strange frowned. "You want us to believe that everything you've done so far is according to some  _grand_  scheme of yours?"

 _"Exactly!"_  the Joker responded, eagerly. "It is! I did lose myself to Jack Napier but I was right in taking that risk! I knew I'd come back and here's ole' me right here, right now- in front of all of ya!" He held both of his hands up, presenting himself to all of them.

When no one responded, he said," _What_? No applause?  _Seriously_?" He shrugged, looking overly disappointed as he put his hands down.

"But you didn't recognise me at all when I went to see you!" Harley argued.

"That was Jack Napier," he informed her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I hadn't gotten to the right psychologist to help me get out yet."

"Wait a minute-" Poison Ivy stopped him. " _We_  hired Dr. Abbott Jr to get to you."

"Exactly, I thought you would," he responded. "I knew that  _if_  something happens to me, you guys- all of you present- would want me to come back because... the mob's shit. Let's be real, no one wants the mob back in power. Too many restrictions. Ammarite?"

Jack observed them, slowly- but surely- they were beginning to believe his story. Finally, Strange spoke, "We believe you. We have suspicions though. How do we know that this is some trick?"

"Do you  _ **think**_ Jack Napier has the guts to meet all of you?" he asked, nonchalantly, rolling his eyes.

That did it.

"Very well," Strange said, "spread the word- the Joker's back."

"Ah, ah," he said, wiggling both his index fingers. "No one can know that, can they?"

"Why not, the mob'll take over!" Harley said.

"You weren't really listening to me, were you?" he asked her. "We're going to kill this city from the inside out. Here's what we're gonna do..."

 

* * *

 

 

"We're going to be having a check up every three weeks," the nurse told her, "and we'll record the progress of the fetus. If there's any medication or anything that you'll require, Dr. Gomez will prescribe it to you."

Misha nodded, still shell shocked.

"Just remember to maintain a healthy diet," the nurse went on, "exercise daily. Go on with your normal routine. Just don't stress yourself too much. This can be a very stressful time- specially if it's your first time. Your body's changing; you're changing and you- hey, is this your first time?"

Misha did not answer the question for a full two minutes before it occurred to her that she had been spoken to. "I...I'm sorry,  _what_?"

The nurse beamed. "Is it your first time?" she asked her.

Misha frowned. "First time-" It took her a moment to realize what she meant. " _OH!_  Yes, yes- it's my first time," she replied, hurriedly.

"The first time's always the scariest," the nurse told her truthfully. "I remember when I had my first child. I was so out of it. It was scary at first but then I was OK."

Misha smiled a little at that. "So how many children do you have?" she asked her conversationally.

"Three," the woman responded.

"How nice," Misha said, mentally freaking out at that. She couldn't imagine having one child, let alone three!

"Of course, spousal support is very important," the nurse went on, "it's always nice to have some-"

But Misha wasn't listening anymore. _I have to tell Jack!_  she thought.  _I need to tell him ASAP and-_

"I need to tell my husband," she blurted suddenly.

The nurse paused. "He doesn't know?"

"No, he thought I was coming down with something," she explained. "I need to go. Now."

"Yes, of course, I'll let you off," the nurse went on, pulling out a paper from the sheaf of papers she was carrying. "Here's your medicine. It's for morning sickness if you have those. Most women do; I'll put this in with the rest...?"

Misha nodded, standing up from her seat. The nurse put the prescription along with a set of papers (containing the pregnancy report) into an envelope and handed it to her.

Misha smiled briefly, taking the paper and headed out of the little hospital assigned to her medical needs by Wayne Enterprises. Once she was outside, she stood near the entrance, waiting for a cab to arrive. Thoughts were rushing through her brain at the speed of light. The most prominent one being-

She was  _pregnant_.

Her brain couldn't process that.

She was pregnant.

When was the last time she thought about having children?

Oh  _yeah_ , back when her parents were alive.

She didn't know how to react.

She  _did_  know that she wasn't nearly as disappointed as she'd thought she'd be. So that was a good sign.  _Right?_

Children had just never been a subject she'd given much thought to. Before Jack, she had never even thought of marriage or any real relationship to begin with. How could she ever think about... _kids_?

She was confused and there was only literally only one person she could talk to about this. Misha pulled out her phone, checking the time in London, before hitting the dial.

As usual, Dina picked up on the first ring.  _"Long time, isn't it?"_  she asked her.

"Yeah," she replied, immediately feeling guilty about not speaking to her earlier. She really should have, she thought as she waited for a cab to pass. She'd gotten to talking to Dina a lot while Jack was at Arkham and then had stopped immediately once he'd been out. "I have an explanation for that."

She could practically hear the grin on her face as she replied, " _Naw, it's alright. I get it. Hubby's back and all._ "

Misha rolled her eyes, all notions of guilt radiated out of her by that sentence. "You know, I actually felt bad for abandoning you but now I don't."

Dina giggled.  _"Whatever, Mish,"_  she responded.  _"Whatever."_

"Yeah, and then you wonder why we lost communication."

 _"Oh, stopping such a buzzkill. What's up? I'm assuming something's up because that's literally the only reason why you ever remember poor, ol' me these days,"_  she retorted, sarcastically.

"Haha, funny you should say that," Misha said, waving a cab. "Umm... well-" The cab pulled over and Misha got in, telling the driver where to go, "-err, gosh- I don't know what to say," she admitted. "I need to tell you something. I need your advice but I don't know how to say it. I can't get the words out."

 _"Well, spill out,"_  Dina said,  _"why you acting so nervous? I swear, you sound JUST like Fram when he first found out that his wife was pregn-"_

"I'm pregnant," Misha blurted at the exact moment.

 _"Wait, what-_ " her voice got cut off and Misha heard a loud _THUD!_  before Dina came back,  _"You're pregnant?"_  she asked her.

"Yes, what happened? Did you-"

_"You're pregnant?"_

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of strange but the nurse says it's only natural. Like it's my first time and-"

_"Wait till I tell Dad."_

"What? No!"

_"Why not? He's your godfather; he should know."_

"Uh..no. Look, even Jack doesn't know yet, okay? I called you for sisterly advise since you're really good with this kind of stuff and you're freak-"

_"Okay, fine. I won't tell. On one condition..."_

Misha groaned. "If you want to be the god parent then it's already off the market."

_"What? Did that Iona take my spot?"_

Misha found the rivalry between Dina and Iona to be her best friend very,  _very_  amusing. "No, it's gone to Bruce Wayne," she said. "So shut up and help me."

 _"Okay..."_  Then, " _I can't believe Bruce Wayne- of **all**  the people- won that round."_

"Dina, focus," Misha said, "how do I tell Jack?"

_"If I help you, will you make me the god mother since Bruce is the godfather?"_

"Ugh, fine. There can be two godmothers."

_"NO! I want to be The Godmother."_

"Jeez, let's focus on the problem at hand."

_"You mean, the surpise."_

"Whatever, Dina."


	23. New Discoveries

The Riddler wasn't amused. Neither was Harley, for the matter, but she did not believe it. It did  ** _not_  **make any sense.

"Are you sure?" she asked, squinting her eyes.

"Definitely," the Penguin replied. "I'm positive."

"But did  _you_  see him?" she inquired.

"No but-"

"Then I don't believe you," she replied. "Mistah J would never do-"

 _"Then what the fuck was he doing in the **CHILDREN'S SECTION**?"_  demanded the Riddler.

"I don't know- charity shopping?" she countered. "That girl's into it and Mistah J's probably-"

"No, you don't get it, Harley," he continued, "he's not Mistah J. He's that coward, Jack whatever. He played us this entire time."

"You're lying," she shrieked, "all of you! You don't see it! You don't know him! Not like me..."

The Riddler rolled his eyes.

"Harley, I don't think you get it," he said, "that man isn't Mistah J. He was fooling her this whole time."

"He has his moments when he's Jack!" she argued. "He told us that he does!"

"Nope, he doesn't," the Penguin informed, "if he did, he wouldn't be helping Gordon."

Harley frowned and he threw a copy of the Gotham Daily to her. Harley picked it up, taking in the front page news:  ** _THE GOOD MAN BEHIND GOTHAM'S PEACE._**  The article detailed about tips and anonymous phone calls that was actively helping Jim Gordon (picture on the left) capture almost all the mob members, as well as many high and low criminals. Trials would be held next week and if con, major secrets of the Mafia would be revealed. Batman was not involved at all; in fact, the police was still looking for him.

"But only we knew all about the..." her voice trailed off.

"Yes, Harley, we've been conned," he went on, "by a coward hiding behind the façade of the Joker. No wonder everyone's gettin' arrested, we put our faith in the wrong man's hands."

It was true. The crazies were disappearing. They hadn't seen the Mad Hatter in weeks. Poison Ivy had vanished as well.

"NO!" she screamed, ripping the paper apart. "This can't be! It's a lie!"

"It's true," the Riddler said, "your Mistah J lied to all of us. Not that he was him to begin with. A just a mere copycat. Oh well, at least now we know what to do with him. Any suggestions?"

But Harley wasn't listening to them anymore. She was outraged. She felt betrayed. _How could Mistah J lie to her?_  She was his favourite. She was  _special_. There was no one except her. It was a trick-  _an elaborate trick._  Yes, that's what it was. No one saw it but she knew. She knew her Mistah J. He knew what he was doing. He was so fucking brilliant no one could anticipate his next move! Yeah, that's what it was.

No one knew what he was up to. That's why they were speaking like this about him!

She just had to speak to him- it would be fine.

And so Harley completely ignored the Penguin and the Riddler and walked out of their hideout in broad daylight. She had to see her puddin'. It was a trick. An elaborate trick, that's all. She snuck into his apartment- the one he shared with that normal woman, pretending to be her husband, pretending to- it made her skin crawl just thinking about it- love her like he meant it. She knew Mistah J, he wouldn't possibly fall in love with someone so normal, so ordinary, so completely different from her...

Yet, when she was inside the house and looked around, she found a room with children's furniture. The wall was painted a bright yellow. There were paintings of colourful fliers and banners on the tippy tops of the wall. The ceiling was painted blue to resemble the sky and there were glow- in- the- dark stars stuck on them in the shape of the Milky Way galaxy ( ** _A/N: this is my childhood bedroom people. This is literally how my room used to be until I was nine._** ). Worst of all was the chest of toys- it was bright green and yellow in colour with all sorts of stuffed toys and blocks inside.

 _'This can't be true,'_  she told herself as she slowly went through it all.  _'He can't be serious! He just can't!'_  Horrified at her findings, she left the room alone. She would've destroyed it but for some reason she felt as though she was trespassing. She quickly ran out of the room, into the kitchen- anywhere really except  ** _that_  **part of the apartment where all of her fears came true...

But then she turned to the refrigerator and her blood ran cold. For on it was a yellow post it note, held by a strawberry magnet, with the following words:

_**I'm out. There's this bookshelf I've been** _

_**wanting to get** _ _**for a while now and I've** _

_**finally found it!** _ _**Won't be long.** _ _**Dinner's** _

_**ready if you're hungry.** _

_**I love you,** _

_**Jack xo** _

Her eyes watered. Those three words.

_He'd never said that to her._

And then it hit her: he was really gone.

Mistah J didn't exist anymore.

It was Jack. It was all Jack.

It was  _always_  Jack.

"There's no more Puddin'," she said aloud, letting out a sob.

It became  _very_  real then and Harley's heart broke into a million pieces.

 

* * *

 

 

Call it a hunch, newly developed motherly instincts or plain weirdness, but Misha just  _knew_  that something was up when one Framton Harrwinton called her on a fine Tuesday morning as she busily organized Bruce Wayne's schedule for the coming month.

 _"Misha, my girl!"_  he exclaimed the moment she picked up the phone. Oh yes, something was  _definitely_  up.

"What do you want?" she asked immediately.

_"ME? I don't want anything per say..."_

She rolled her eyes as she pushed the deal with Diana Prince one week forward. "I know you, Fram," she pointed out, "what is it?"

 _"Did you seriously just judge me based on my voice alone?"_  he inquired.

Misha thought real hard for a moment before replying, "Oh yes, definitely."

_"Whaaat?"_

"Are you drunk?"

_"What, no!"_

"Why are you so happy then?"

_"Do you have a problem with happy people?"_

"Not really," she admitted, "but it doesn't suit you. Dina, yes. You, fuck no."

"SHE SAID FUCK!" Misha pulled her phone from her ear and looked at it for a moment.  _Was that...?_

 _"Oh fuck. I mean shit, I mean, aaah- fuck it,"_  she heard Fram say.

The toddler let out a horrified shriek.

_"Grannnnnny! Daddy's friend said a BAD WORD. And then DADDY said a bad word and then-"_

_"I'm gonna put you on hold,"_  Fram told her. It took a few minutes but it was entertaining since Fram forgot to actually put her on hold and carried his phone with him.

 _"What's going on?!"_  she heard Brenda Harwinton ask her granddaughter.

 _"DADDY USED A BAD WORD!"_  Melanie informed her.  _"HE SAID-"_

 _"I think it's best if we don't discuss what I said,"_  Fram interrupted her.  _"We're not supposed to repeat them now, are we?"_

 _"Mmm-hmmm,"_  the youngest Harwinton agreed. _"We shouldn't."_

 _"So, what do we do now?"_  Fram asked her.

 _"We apologieed,"_  she replied and Fram chuckled.

 _"Yes, we apologize. I'm sorry, I won't say it again,"_  he said.

_"You mean it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Really mean it?"_

_"Yup."_

_"Really, really mean it?"_

_"Yes, Melanie. I really, really, really, really mean it."_

_"YAY!"_

_"Now go with granny, okay? I'm on a call,"_  he instructed her.

She briefly heard Brenda say something like, "We'll talk tonight." and then he was back,  _"Oh fuck, you heard."_

"I did," and then she couldn't control her laughter.

Misha chuckled for a good five minutes before Fram interrupted her,  _"Oh, ha ha, I bet it's hilarious. I'd like to see you handle your kids."_

"Please, I don't curse," she said, wiping her tears, "I only curse rarely. And it's usually Bruce's fault."

"Ah," Fram said, getting down to business, "I heard you got a job offer from Jefferson & Flinch."

Misha groaned. "Oh no, not you too! I swear everyone knows about that. Even Bruce knows! He shouldn't know. Why does he know?"

"Because competitive corporate culture," he replied, "now, I know Jefferson & Flinch have a good deal but-"

"Don't worry about it. I rejected them," she answered, busily penning in an appointment for next Wednesday.

_"You what? I mean, great! That's great!"_

"Why is it great?"

 _"Because I have a better offer,"_  he exclaimed.

"Uh, no."

_"Hear me out!"_

"I'm hanging up. I don't wan-"

_"There's a position at Goldman Sachs."_

Misha stopped. "What?"

_"I knew you'd stop."_

"Shut up. What?"

_"They need a financial advisor with a bit of managerial skills. They're opening a new office in Cambridge, MA."_

Even though she was super excited, she remained calmed and asked, "So?"

_"So? So it's great! I checked the position out and everything and I think it's perfect for you. Seriously, we're talking insurance, nine to five job, no calls home, an apartment near Charles River and twenty paid vacation days. What more could you ask for?"_

"Maternity leave?"

_"I'm being serious Misha."_

"I'm serious too. No maternity leave. No job."

_"They're giving you twenty paid vacation days, Misha."_

"So?"

_"I can tell you're joking."_

"Fine, I am. Maternity leave isn't much of a problem anyway because I plan on staying at Wayne Enterprises for a while. What is your point?"

_"Please tell me you are not shaking of excitement."_

Misha looked at her hands. They were shaking of excitement. "I am excited," she admitted, "I just don't know what to do."

_"I'm asking you to apply."_

"But on what basis?"

"I'll recommend you. And I bet Bruce will too."

"It's not that simple," she went on, "I only have five years of experience."

_"Great! They want three!"_

"And I haven't an MBA."

_"Oh yeah, I forgot about that."_

She rolled her eyes.

_"They mentioned something about sponsorship for an MBA at Harvard."_

Misha stopped. "You're kidding?"

_"Nope, pretty serious."_

"Harvard?"

_"Yes."_

"Can I get into Harvard?"

_"Well, you could if you tried. I mean, they're sponsoring people. And you topped your year. That's Harvard-esque."_

"You can't tell me shit like this and expect me to be okay," she retorted. "Fuck, I don't wanna turn that down."

_"I thought you said you didn't curse."_

"Shut up. Seriously."

_"Yeah, I just wanted you to know about this. If you're in. There's an interview tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."_

"What?"

_"Text you the location. Bye!"_

"Wait, Fram-" Misha tried to speak but he hung up. She groaned, looking at the wall clock in front of her. Exactly twenty two hours and fifteen minutes left...

Misha shook her head. She wouldn't do it. She liked it here.

But as the day progressed, she began to wonder.

She'd never get a chance like this.

Ever.

And Cambridge was pretty far away.

Sure, it was only four hours away, it was still further down away from both New York and Gotham.

It was in another state...

She googled the city. While the population itself was only a hundred thousand, it was home to two very good universities. As a result, there were many, many services available. More importantly, there were many, many universities and colleges within an hour's commute from the city- great for Jack, who'd wanted to go back to college. The education and day care system seemed good. Boston was close by for family weekends too...

A plan began formulating in her mind.

Misha emailed GSU for a copy of her college transcripts, logged into her old Collegeboard account before going to the university's graduate programs page. It was overwhelming but Misha was used to that. So she took a deep breath before texting Fram:  ** _"I'm in."_**


	24. Negligible Aspirations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently double updating is a thing. For my active stories anyway.

The next few weeks went by slowly. Wayne Manor's reconstruction was almost complete and Bruce was awfully busy with that. Apparently he wanted  _everything_  to be the way it was. Needless to say, Misha found herself dividing her time between doing actual office work and scheduling appointments with interior designers for Bruce. There was a lot to do but Misha had it under control.

Jack, on the other hand, didn't think so.

"You're working too hard," he told her as he watched get ready for work one Saturday morning.

"Huh, no I'm not," she replied immediately.

"You know, now's a good time to take a break," Jack went on as though she hadn't said anything. "What do you say?"

Misha rolled her eyes. Ever since she'd told him, Jack had become even more protective of her than before. She hadn't thought that  _that_  could be possible. But it was. And she hated it.

A lot.

"I say no," she said, "I'm only a month along."

"Two months."

_"What?"_

"You're two months along," Jack scoffed.

" _Whatever_." Inwards she was wondering how she'd forgotten that. "I'm not going on a break right now," she told him, "I plan on going on maternity leave in a few months and I don't want my application to be rejected."

"As if it will be," he retorted.

Misha chose to ignore that. "It'll be up to HR to give me maternity leave. Not Bruce," she informed him.

"Aren't you part of HR?" he asked her honestly.

"I am," she agreed, "but there are twenty other people. I can't slack off and then ask for a leave. That's just pathetic."

Jack grinned. "Only you would have such rigid principles, Mish," he told her.

"Eh, what can I say? I'm one of a kind," she responded.

"That you are," he agreed before kissing her. "I'll see you at five."

"Yes you will," she agreed, "I've got nothing but tax returns to file today."

With that and a quick good bye, she left their apartment complex and made her way to work. Since it was a Saturday, traffic was relatively less than it was on a week day. That certainly helped with her patience. Misha was particularly impatient when it came to traffic and that was one of the reasons why Jack didn't let her drive often. Something to do with her blood pressure but Misha never focused on that bit.

She was almost at work when she got a text- well, a series of texts- from Bruce.

**_"Can you come at the Manor? Thanks. "_ **

**_"P.S I got Bart to do the tax stuff."_ **

**_"Did you know that he's a tax lawyer?"_ **

**_"Anyway, Wayne Manor. Would appreciate it."_ **

Even though she found it a little annoying, Misha grinned. She didn't have it in her to be mad at Bruce. For long anyway.

 ** _"I'll be right there,"_**  she text back before driving to the new venue.

After an hour's drive, she arrived at Wayne Manor. Which was supposed to be complete.  _Or so,_  Bruce had claimed. It didn't look very complete to Misha as she got out of her car and walked into Bruce's house. It looked empty. And haunted. Granted, the walls were rebuilt and the place didn't look charred anymore but still- it looked ancient. Make that,  _very_  ancient.

Misha reminded herself that there were far more things to be worried about in the world than the manor.

"Anybody here?" she called aloud as she got in.

"Back here!" she heard Bruce's voice. She walked further into the manor, past the entrance lobby thing and the dinning room and the parlour (who the hell had a parlour in this day and age?!) until she reached a big, empty, unpainted room with a massive fireplace.

"Hey," she greeted Bruce and Alfred.

"Great," Bruce said after nodding a hello to her. Alfred was more vocal about his greeting. "Now, you must be wondering why I called you here."

"No shit," Misha scoffed at his observation.

"Anyway, Alfred knows but I reckoned it was time someone else knew about this anyway," he stated before walking towards the fireplace and pulling at one of the panels. Slowly, and strangely quietly, the fireplace began to fall inwards.

"What is that?" Misha asked immediately. The scene reminded her of the Chamber of Secrets scene in Harry Potter.

"Secret passage to the Bat Cave," he informed her. "But that's not all. There are six more passages throughout the manor which I wanted to show you. One of them leads to Wayne Enterprises and another to the docks. Also, I was thinking of adding two more. What do you say, Alfred?"

"I say, it better be a good one. These passages have been a secret for a quite a few decades," he responded immediately.

"Okay," Bruce agreed, looking around in what seemed to be deep thought. "I wanted to build a safe house in case something happened. Two safe houses to be safe."

"Paranoid much?" Misha quipped.

"What? No! Just being cautious. Now, help me look for a new secret passage location."

"That's literally the silliest thing I've heard all day."

Bruce rolled his eyes at that one.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack didn't know what to do which in itself was strange since he  _always_  had something to do. Lately he and Gordon had been scheming together and had (successfully) managed to bust a few (read: forty two) relatively minor and common criminals. It wasn't much-at least to him- but Gordon made a huge deal about it. Of course, the police station in general didn't know much about it apart from the fact that Gordon just  _happened_  to what was going with the criminals but he and Jack had a little private celebration at Gordon's place. A little whiskey and cigar.

Jack didn't like the latter much.

It was strange because he used to be a heavy smoker before.

He reckoned it was one of the things the Joker explicitly preferred that he himself didn't really like.

Speaking of the Joker, it had been several weeks since he'd seen the Joker's old gang. He'd been spinning them in circles, distracting them long enough so Gordon could get the job done. He hoped it would end soon. He dreaded meeting them. These days they frightened him even more. Jack reckoned it was because he was finally becoming saner.

He hadn't had to play Joker in weeks. He could meet them on his own terms without the madman.

After weeks of plotting, scheming and planning, everything had finally paid off and Gordon had decided to take it slow. They were going after the big guys now. The Joker's gang and the mob.

Personally, he wanted the gang in before the mob but Gordon thought so differently.

Jack wondered how he'd convince him otherwise.

Of course, he understood why Gordon wanted them in last. If they realized what was happening before they took the mob in, there was a high chance that the crazies would leak information to the mob which would ruin everything. As it was the mob was questioning Harvey Dent's authority and the laws they'd enforced in his honour.

Harvey Dent.

Jack sighed. Although he was normally able to not think about most of the Joker's victims, the impact of the madman on Dent's life often haunted him. He'd not only manipulated the man so badly that he'd lost his mind but he'd also killed Rachel, his fiancée.

Also known as the woman Bruce Wayne loved.

According to Misha.

He hadn't exactly been able to confirm it from anyone else because, well, it was a sensitive issue.

Needless to say, it made him feel even more guilty about what he'd done to the man.

If only he'd never gone back...

He'd had it well with Misha. If it hadn't been for his stupid comeback, they would've been better off. Maybe Misha wasn't wrong about wanting to move cities after all.

There was just too much baggage in Gotham.

For both of them.

It wouldn't be an easy choice thought. Misha had only mentioned moving once or twice a long time ago (read: two to three months ago) and he wasn't even sure if she wanted to go ahead with it anymore. He knew they'd have to talk about it eventually but for now it was just one of  _ **those**  _topics. The ones they ignored that is.

He had no idea how to bring about the topic. He did, however, know that Misha had in fact been job hunting for a while for a few weeks after she got pregnant before stopping. He had also seen the letter she'd received from one Jefferson & Finch in Metropolis, offering her a job but she hadn't said anything yet and so he had let it be. He also knew that she wouldn't pick Metropolis because it was too close to Gotham. New York wasn't high on her list either. Misha wanted a fresh start and none of the cities he'd ever been seemed to appeal to her. He didn't really have to worry about deciding a city though; it was only a matter of time now before they talked about it and he had already decided that he'd respect her decision. No matter what it was.

That didn't stop him from making the most of Gotham though.

He liked Gotham.

Even though it was a shit city- according to Misha.

And Gotham was particularly kind when it came to promotions of goods and stuff. And yes, Jack was totally going overboard with the baby shopping. He'd even started converted their guest room into a nursery which Misha absolutely hated because it was "too early." He didn't think so and so he'd already painted it a nice, bright shade of yellow and had already started picking out furniture.

Misha wasn't amused.

But then, she often wasn't and Jack knew how to get her on board. Besides, between work and herself, Misha didn't have time to shop for baby stuff and so Jack had gladly taken over the responsibilities. It was perfectly OK. Every parent shopped for their kid.

Jack tried reasoning with himself but he couldn't shake off this feeling that he was being watched and that made him cautious. The last thing he wanted was his enemies finding out about the new person- because that's how he referred to their baby since he didn't know the gender yet- in his family.

That would ruin  ** _everything_**.


	25. Surprise...Ish

_Four missed calls... Zero voice mails._

Jack frowned. This didn't sound right. Normally when Misha wanted to speak to him and he didn't response, she'd leave a voice message. Something's up, he thought as he pressed her number (saved on his speed dial of course).

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_"Hey, this is Misha,"_  the pre-recorded message began to play,  _"I'm busy at the moment. Leave a message after the ring and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."_

Jack sighed before hanging up.

And now  _she_  wouldn't pick up. Yes, something was definitely up.

He continued walking.

The streets near the business hub of Gotham were very busy this time of the day and he briefly wondered if he'd made a mistake coming here to begin with. But Misha hadn't been feeling well (and now she wouldn't pick up the phone) and he'd reckoned that they'd go out for lunch today. He had called Bruce Wayne earlier to ask when her lunch (tea, really since it was three in the afternoon) break was- considering how Jack had no idea when it was and Bruce, being her boss, had to know it. Turns out he didn't but he was willing to give her a break so that she and Jack could go out for lunch; Jack couldn't help but be grateful to him for that- the man was  _very_  accommodating.

Jack walked on, looking at the traffic on the road. He was very happy that he didn't get the car today. Traffic looked like  _hell_. Of course, now that he thought about it, considering where he'd been not minutes ago, yes, it was really smart of him not to get the car.

Jack chose to ignore the meeting he'd been to.

He hoped that they'd listen to him.

Things would be perfect then.

Not that they necessarily weren't at the moment.

He realized that these days his life was sort of perfect. Sure, there was a bounty on his head but given the kind of hell he was used to, this was close to perfect.

He finally arrived at Wayne Enterprises. He was about to make his entry into the building when a cab pulled over and his wife hopped out.

Jack quickly ran up to her.

"Misha!" he greeted her, before leaning down to kiss her.

Misha looked surprised and then embarrassed at the display, tugging a strand of hair behind her left ear.

"Jack," she stated, "hi."

He frowned. "Seriously? That's all I get?"

"Ermm... great to see ya?"

He laughed.

Misha smiled a little slowly. "What're you doing here?"

"I decided that I'd take you out to lunch," he told her, "well,  _tea_  but I haven't had lunch so...yeah." He gave her wide grin which she reciprocated. Albeit a little late. There was something off about her.

"Oh, well, I haven't had lunch either," she told him, "so we're on the same boat."

Jack shook his head. "Seriously? And then you complain about getting sick," he said to her.

She looked alarmed by that. "Sick? I'm not sick," she responded immediately.

"Well, you were," he stated, as matter of factly. "Did you see the doctor?"

They'd began walking at this point, moving away from Wayne Enterprises and towards the restaurants on the street across it.

"Hmmm, I did," she said, eyeing the traffic. "Did you bring the car?"

"Nope," he answered.

"This traffic is hell," she commented.

"My thinking same," he agreed before asking, "Thai or Chinese?"

Misha looked surprised. "What?"

"Food," he told her, pointing at the two restaurants in front of them, "Thai or Chinese?"

Misha smiled. "Chinese."

They went inside and took their seats- near the back of the restaurant, by the window. Misha loved the window spot. They ordered and then waited while their food arrived.

"How'd you know it's my break?" she asked him.

"I didn't," Jack admitted. "I asked Bruce who didn't know either so he gave you a break."

Misha smirked. "Well, that was expected. He doesn't know my break time for obvious reasons."

Jack raised a brow.

"I don't like being disturbed," she told him, "God knows how often I've worked during my break because  _'I must be free.'_  His words not mine."

Jack looked thoughtful before saying, "What exactly do you do?"

"Well, I'm his secretary," she responded, "like I have to schedule all of his appointments, attend some myself when he's out... _doing his thing._ "

"Ah," Jack said in acknowledgement, taking the hint. "So do you often do that?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"I thought you'd studied Business Administration," he said.

"I did."

"This isn't very Business Administration-y if you ask me."

"I know, I'm just doing it for the experience," she said, "and the recommendations and networks that comes with working at Wayne Enterprises. I'm not going to stay as his secretary forever. I do plan on actually doing what my degree entails in the future."

"How far into the future is this?"

"I don't know- a year or three? What'd you say?"

Jack looked heavenwards. "I don't know. A year sounds too short, if you ask me."

Misha nodded. "Yeah, you're right. But I'll do it when we've settled. I mean, I know that I want to move away from Gotham because the schools here aren't really all that good. Not to mention that this city is absolutely no place to raise a famil-" She stopped herself but it was too late.

"Whaaat?" Jack asked her, very, very confused. "Why would you...?" His voice trialled off as it hit him. His eyes widened and Misha saw an array of emotions go through them before eventually settling on happiness.

He grinned widely.

"Misha," he said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Suddenly, she felt very, very uncomfortable. This was  ** _not_  **her domain. "I just found out about it," she told him, "I went to the doctor's. I'd reckoned that I'd surprise you and ummm..." She stopped herself, readjusting and schooling her facial expressions and handing him an envelope (which she quickly fished out of her bag) before putting on a big, big smile and saying,  _"Surprise! I'm pregnant!"_

Jack burst into laughter.

"What?"

"I just- it's too funny!"

"What is?" Misha's smile fell.

"You're just-"

Misha glared at him as he laughed.

"Well, I hope you have a nice lunch," she said, standing up. "I'm leaving." She began to walk away but Jack stopped her, still laughing.

"Come back here," he said, guiding her back to their seat. "It's funny because of the way you did it."

"Well, I dunno- did you have a better plan?"

Jack smirked. "As a matter of fact. I do, take note..."

Misha glared at him. "Do you wanna have lunch with me or not?"

"Okay, okay!" he said, putting his hands up in surrender.

Misha said nothing to that. Their food arrived and they started eating.

"Are you happy though?" she asked him suddenly. "Like the timing and everything?"

Jack frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Because of you know, the stuff and everything," she said.

"I'm not worried," he assured her, "I mean, you have a plan, don't you?"

"I do," she nodded.

"So what's the problem?"

"Nothing, I'm just... _concerned_."

Jack sighed before running his hand over his face. "Do you want to have a serious conversation?"

"Yes, please."

He groaned before agreeing, "Okay, say what you have to."

"What do we do now?" she asked him. "I mean, is Gotham really the city we need to be in? I mean, like- _no offence_ \- but do you really want to stay here? With all the shit that's happening. There's not a single day when something's  ** _not_  **wrong here. So far we've been going with the flow here. Do we really want to start a new life in this city?"

Jack looked heavenwards before saying, "If you put it that way I can see your point but Misha- nothing's wrong. Don't you like it here?"

"It's just one of those things bothering me for some reason," she admitted, "I never thought we'd even be here. Right now."

"Okay, so let's break this down. You don't want to stay in Gotham because everything bad's always happened here."

"Essentially, yes."

"We've got friends here," he said, "A lot of people who like us an-"

"No,  _I_  have friends here," she interrupted, "you don't. And it kills me that no one in this city gives you a chance to be something better."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I don't need friends. I have you. Misha, it doesn't matter-"

"But it does! You know that."

"I do. And I'm trying not to think too far ahead yet."

"Why?"

"Because if I do, I'll end up thinking about our kid going to school and finding out that their dad's a mass murderer," he spoke honestly, "and that's not gonna happen for  _at least_  three years. If we think about the future, we'll ruin now, and I'm very happy right now. Let's enjoy now and worry about tomorrow  _tomorrow_."

"Are you sure?" Misha said. Jack let out an exaggerated sigh before settling himself beside her.

"Look at me," he said, holding her hands. When she did, he continued, "I know what you're worried about. I know this city isn't kind. That it's difficult. It will be. But let's just deal with it. Now we're going to tell your friends and my friends- which includes the door man, the mail man and Fred from the coffee shop- seriously, I have friends. Just not many."

"I'm sorry about that," she mumbled.

"Eh, it's okay. You're right. But that's not the point. Gotham's horrible. You're right. We shouldn't raise kids here. But we have friends. We have roots in this city. At least I do. Dunno 'bout you, New York girl," he teased her, "and it's a time to celebrate. Let's do it with our friends."

"I'm still worried," she pointed out, "if it's not us. It's these crazy people and villains and-"

"What did I tell you?" he asked her. "Stop freaking out. We're gonna have a great time, Misha. This is about you. And me. We just need to chill. If by the end of the year, we decide that Gotham's shitty like that, we'll move. In the meantime, I should probably decide what I'm gonna do. Being dad and all," he elaborated for her, "I mean, I like the idea of being a stay at home dad but I'd like to go back to school. That, or I should call up my alma mater and ask for a copy of my degree since I'd burnt it back in the day." He grinned at that. "Not sure if they'll appreciate it though."

"Jack..."

"What it's true! Imagine having the Joker as one of your alums," he stated, "it'll suck to be that uni. But whatever. We're going to get through this and it'll be fun."

"Fun?" Misha frowned. "Doctor said I'll have morning sickness!"

"Well, annoying for you and fun for me because I'll do the shopping," he teased her.

"You're horrible."

"But you love me for that," he pointed out. He kissed her and Misha allowed herself to smile. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was over thinking this. It would be fine.

"Now let's celebrate," Jack said, waving at the waiter. "Let's have cake for dessert. Did the doc said anything about wine?"

"Yea, he said not to."

"Oh well, we'll take a bottle of red wine for me and an apple juice for her."

"Excuse you," she retorted.

Jack winked at her but proceeded to order anyway.

After they were done with their meal, they walked back to Wayne Enterprises, hand in hand. They stopped in the way to get cotton candy from a vendor which Jack insisted she try.

"I'll come pick you up," Jack told her as he kissed her good bye.

"Why? I can come by myself."

"Eh, no. We're not done celebrating. All that _serious talk_ ," he rolled his eyes, causing Misha to laugh.

"Maybe you should consider comedy again," she suggested.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it," he admitted. "I don't think Gotham will appreciate it."

"So it's part of plan B?"

"Definitely."

They bid each other good bye and Misha went into the building. She was not past the third floor when Iona cornered her.

"How come  _Bruce Wayne_  gets to be the god father?" she demanded. "And why did  _Dina_  know before  _me_?"

Misha sighed.

_Oh boy._


	26. Choices To Be Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double update. I'll be ending this story in a few days:)

Misha sighed. The past few weeks had passed very quickly. Her maternity leave had begun yesterday. She had also had her second interview with Goldman Sachs this morning and now carried an offer letter with her. Or rather, employment letter. She had to sign it after all. One signature and she would be deciding her future. Only, it wasn't just her future anymore. It was also Jack's. And the baby's.

She'd thought about it extensively.

She really had.

She and Jack had decided that they'd wait for the baby to be born before deciding whether they wanted to stay in Gotham or not but now... she wasn't sure if she wanted that. It was too good of an offer to decline. Too good. And it seemed like a really good long term plan too. She could work and get her degree- something which she'd never thought she could do with Wayne Enterprises because they didn't have sponsorship programs for HR and she could never afford it on her own.

They didn't have financial problems but the only reason she was even able to save cash and stuff was because of all the benefits that came with her position. An ordinary employer wouldn't give her accommodation, health insurance, car mortgage ( ** _A/N: Not sure about the rest of the world but I have this in my country_** ) and insurance, and countless holidays. But that was solely on Bruce. She never wanted the stupid holidays to begin with.

And maternity leave.

It was really just her luck to get that- her twisted, yet somehow brilliant luck that got her here in the first place. Misha didn't expect any of this to happen. Ever. But it did. And even though she was grateful for all that had happened, she was usually- well-  _unamused_  by it.

The universe had the weirdest way of doing things. It did really. She didn't know why though.

If anything (and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to grateful about it), she knew that it didn't do that to her only. Many people talked about getting to where they would've wanted in the weirdest way possible. It seemed like the cycle of life- the way things were supposed to be apparently.

_The universe is strange,_  Misha decided finally.  _Very strange._

That didn't solve her dilemma though.

She needed to make a decision.

She needed to tell Jack.

But what would she tell Jack?

That even though they'd talked about this, she wanted to make the most important decision in her life and permanently change their future forever and there was nothing he could do about it?

Misha groaned.

She shouldn't be dealing with this to begin with.

Why, oh why, hadn't she turned him in when he snuck into her apartment all those years ago?

Better yet- why didn't she move away from Gotham immediately after he'd left Arkham?

Misha knew that was stretching it a tad bit too far but it was what it was. She didn't want to be in this situation. She really didn't. But she really wanted to work for Goldman Sachs. Why was this so complicated? It needn't be complicated. It was her choice. She could make her own decisions. But then, the result of her actions could affect two other lives as well.

And then she was back to the Jack equation.

And yes, she called it that.

She had a feeling that the baby would be a mini Jack.

She just knew it.

And today she'd know it for sure.

Misha sat in the waiting room at her doctor's as she waited for the report. The nurse she'd met the first time walked by and greeted her. "You again!" she exclaimed, sitting next to her. "How's everything going?"

Misha smiled a little. "Good, I guess," she said.

"Sure?"

Her smile weakened a bit and she elaborated, "The baby's great. His dad's happy and all but I've got a work related dilemma."

"Hmmm... don't we all?" the nurse smiled. "We're working women. We've got a different lifestyle. What's bothering you?"

Misha didn't think much before she said, "Well, I've got this job offer- perfect, really but it's in another city. Like it's far- not really since it's only four hours away but it's further south than I've ever been and, yeah. I really want to take it but my husband and I had decided that we wouldn't leave this city but I hadn't gotten this offer at that point so I really didn't want to leave but now I do but- am I making sense?"

The nurse chuckled. "Yes, you are. You have an opportunity which you want to take but you're afraid of taking it because you've got people depending on you."

"Yeah."

"I think you should go for it," she said, "unless your husband's caught up with his work and can't leave the city."

"That's not a problem."

"Then take it. What're you afraid of?"

"We'v got friends and family in this city," she went on, "I'm not sure if leaving is a good idea."

"But you'll make friends in the other city as well. Besides, it's not like you'll never see them again. You will speak to them on the phone right?"

"Of course I will."

"Then it's settled."

Misha thought for a moment. It did make sense after all and maybe that's what she'd needed. A third person view. Still, she'd glossed over a lot of things in her brief explanation which were quite fatal to her decision. "But th-" she started but then the assistant called her name. Misha smiled at the woman and thanked her for her advise before going into the doctor's room.

Time for answers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"No, no, no!" Harley shrieked. "None of them is good enough!"

The Riddler and Penguin looked at one another before turning to her. "Then who?"

"The Mad Hatter's not qualified," she said, "and neither are you two. We need someone better."

"Excuse me but we've put out all of the nominees and  _you_  keep objecting to them," the Riddler responded.

"Because none of them are long- sighted enough!"

"What does that mean?"

"Mistah J knew stuff," she explained, "he could see stuff well into the future. Like  _years_  ahead. Why'd ya think he kept Batman alive for so long?"

"I don't know," grumbled the Penguin. "Accept it Harley, he's gone. We need a new one. Besides, that Bane's getting on everyone's nerve. He's demanding answers and Ivy can't stall him any longer!"

"YOU'RE ACTING LIKE I DON'T KNOW IT!" she screamed, standing up from her seat. She wrapped her arm around herself and glanced at the men at the table slowly.

They'd been trying it for days now. They needed a new leader to replace the Joker. She didn't like it. Not. One. Bit. And yet there was nothing that she could do. The Joker wasn't coming back. He was long gone. She couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to believe that he was back. If he  _had_  really been back, he'd be here right now and they would be formulating a plan to get rid of Bane and the League of Shadows. He'd remember the deal they had made with them. He'd remember that he had promised that he'd destroyed Gotham by last Tuesday and personally hand over Batman to Bane to do whatever he wanted with him.

But  _no_.

Mistah J wasn't there.

And they'd been left with that bumbling fool, Jack, to spin them in circles, pretending-  _pretending_  to know even a  _shred_  of the trouble they were about to get into.

"I don't wanna die," she mumbled. "They're gonna kill us aren't they?"

"We can pin this on Jack," the Penguin said, "he  _is_  the Joker. It's hi-"

"But they'll kill us?" she asked.

"Yes."

Harley looked heavenwards.

"That sucks," she stated quietly. Her brows knitted together as she tried to remember pain- the kind of pain Mistah J had made her go through transition from uptight Dr. Harleen Quinzel to her current fabulous self. She couldn't remember it. She just remembered a buzzing sound before everything made sense followed by Mistah J's laughter. Nothing before that. She didn't even remember when she was born. Her memory used to be better once but it was getting worse day by day. Mistah J had assured her that  _all_ of her memories from her previous life would go away. Just like his, he'd add and she had believed him.

But he wasn't around anymore.

_He lied to ya,_  her conscious told her, _he told ya that he'd never go away. And look what he's doing now. He's gone._

_Or,_  whispered another voice in her head,  _he chose to leave. He chose to leave the minute he found a girl willing to be his dead wife._

_Or maybe he just wanted to get rid of ya,_  a third laughed crudely at her.

_And now he's got everything that he lost once: a wife and a baby coming along,_  the second voice continued,  _the very things that made him Mistah J. Only you're not in the equation anymore._

_Because he used ya,_ the first voice said.  _He used ya to get his old life back so he could be normal again. He missed being normal._

While normally the voices wouldn't bother her, the last one got her attention. He left her because he wanted to be normal again. Because he met that girl! That girl showed him that there was a chance at being normal. If that girl...

Harley thought hard, thinking about his other wife. The one who'd died. Mistah J had told her that that was the one memory he couldn't get rid of. Because she'd loved him and he couldn't repay her. But this Jack fella seemed to like Misha just fine. If she got rid of Misha, maybe there was a shot at getting Mistah J back?

The situation was the same. The only difference was the girl. But Jack didn't feel guilty or anything when it came to her. That much Harley knew. Maybe he'd lose his mind all over again and become the Joker? It was bound to happen. It happened the last time. This would be the worst thing to happen to Jack Napier. Ever.

She wouldn't be surprised if the devastation killed that part of him. Jack Napier wouldn't exist. And the Joker would be free without anyone trying to resist.

_It was perfect!_

Harley's face broke into a big, big smile.

"What're you smiling for?" The Riddler asked her.

She looked at the men at the table once more and started laughing hysterically.

"Well, what is it?" This time it was Hugo Strange. And he was getting annoyed.

Harley shook her head as she wiped the tears that were falling down her cheeks. "We're really stupid aren't we?" she wondered aloud. "All this time we've been trying to look for a replacement for Mistah J. Mistah J's  _irreplaceable_! The only way we can  _possibly_  find someone as good as him is to bring him back!"

"And how do we do that?" the Penguin asked her.

"Simple," she stated, "We get rid of his wife. Now here's what we'll do..."


	27. Hell On Earth

_Me and psychic **sooo**  don't go well together, _Misha thought to herself as she reread the report once more. It was as simple as that- she was having going to having a little girl. But it wasn't all that simple.

She was disappointed.

 _Maybe I'm just inertly sexist,_  she mused.  _All this time I've been so busy pointing out everything bad that's happened to that I never bothered assessing what was really wrong with me._

She felt  _strange_.

Sara had wanted a daughter.

And now she felt guilty.

Not for the first time Misha felt as though she was living on borrowed time.  _Maybe I should've killed myself,_  she reckoned. It would've saved a hell lot of emotions. And the drama that came with them.

But she wasn't one for thinking too much about what could have been.

She just wasn't.

And so Misha chose to ignore the feeling building up at the back of her head. She ignored it as she made her way back home and told Jack was ecstatic. She ignored it when they went out to dinner to celebrate. She definitely ignored it when Dina called and made her speak to each and every one of the Harrington's- even her mother who wasn't too fond of Misha. She tried to ignore it when Dan spoke to her but the problem with her Uncle Dan was that he often sentenced that something was troubling her.

After all this time too.

"Nothing's wrong," Misha answered his question, "why would anything be wrong?"

 _"I don't know, you just don't seem excited,"_  he said from the other end.

"I am excited. I'm just stressed. It's getting real now."

_"Are you worried that your daughter might suffer the same fate as you?"_

Misha took a deep breath. _Damn that man._

"I don't know what to expect," she said instead.

_"And why do you think that history will repeat itself?"_

"Because it would be just my luck," she retorted bitterly.

_"Misha."_

"I know. I'm being silly. I just- I'm not comfortable with the idea of having a daughter when this world is so  _cruel_  to girls," she responded.

 _"Now that's not true,"_  Dan reasoned, " _your gender had nothing to do with what happened to you."_

"No one believed that I wasn't crazy because it was my word against Jury's," she reminded him, "never mind that there was a team of nannies and chaffeurs who would get behind me. The law chose to listen him. A power man versus a powerless, little girl."

_"Now, now. That's ancient history. What happened to you can't happen to your children. Look at the life you've made for yourself. Do you actually think that something like that could happen?"_

"I live in Gotham."

Dan sighed.  _"You still haven't spoken to the Boston block have you?"_

"Oh no, I have," she replied in negative, "I'm just not sure about what I want to do."

_"What do you want to do?"_

"I want to not think about Sara when I think about my daughter," she responded.

_"Sara?"_

"Yup. I feel as though I'm taking someone's place- as though I'm some sort of replacement. A stand in. The fact that Jack was already married with a wife in the same position as me once doesn't help my case but more than ever, I feel  _empty_. I want to move on. I'm not excited. I'm not happy. I'm just existing. And it's killing me," she concluded, "I want closure. I want to stop thinking about my past and look to the future."

 _"Hmmm... Perhaps there's one way,"_  her uncle told her, _"but it's purely psychological. But it'll work."_

"What?"

_"You'll have to go to New York."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

New York City.

The last place she'd wanted to be in the planet.

To many, it was the city of dreams- the Big Apple, the greatest city in the world...  _blah blah blah_  but to Misha- it was her own brand of Hell on Earth.

She hated this city so, so much.

Moving to this city had proven to be fateful to her. Her parents had died. Her uncle had turned into a stereotypical Disney villain with his villain like goatee and stuff. This city was witness to every single malace that had ever happened to her.

She'd vowed she wouldn't come back.

And yet, here she was.

 _Stupid New York,_  she thought to herself. She was in a cab at the moment, and like Gotham's, New York's traffic was absolutely ridiculous. _Maybe Boston will be a bit of fresh air from these places._

All her life she'd lived in big cities. Now she wanted to start anew at a smaller one.

She  _still_  hadn't told Jack and had decided that she'd do so in due time. Probably after the baby was born. Or before that, she didn't know yet. What she did know was that she was never coming to New York. She didn't care if her daughter got into Columbia or some place, Misha was never setting foot into New York again.

"Cemetery's a minute's walk away lady," the cabbie told her, "I think it's best if you get off here. Traffic's crazy."

"Of course," Misha agreed before paying and getting out of the cab. She soothed the non existent wrinkles on her knee length, black dress and readjusted the few stray lily flowers in the bouquet she'd bought earlier.

_Sara loved lilies._

Misha choose to ignore that thought. She made her way into the cemetery. It was quite a walk to Sara's grave. Even though she didn't want to think about her and was purely here for her own selfish interests, she couldn't help but think back to their childhood.

Sara had tried to get through to her so many times after her parents had died but Misha had shut her out completely. Now that she thought about it, it wasn't particularly fair to Sara either. Whatever her parents did to Misha, Sara didn't know about it until much later. But it had been too late then and she had had more reasons to hate Sara. If only she'd let Sara stay friends with her...

But then, what  _could_  have Sara done?

All she did was express absolute horror when she found out about Misha's situation. She hadn't once tried to talk to her parents about it. It wasn't her fault but then, it wasn't Misha's either. They'd been friends. Good friends but the decisions of those around them had caused them to turn on each other. In that sense, Misha could give Sara the credit of having the moral sense of being outraged when Misha's true situation came before her. She was sure what she would have done in such a situation herself.

Finally, she arrived at Sara's grave. A single marble slab marked it. Her name was written in gold letters with a smaller silver font was used to represent her date of birth and date of death. Somebody had placed a fresh garland of roses around it and Misha reckoned that her uncle and aunt visited her grave almost daily. She stepped forward and placed the bouquet on top of it.

Then, after getting a respectable distance away from the grave, she began to speak, "Hey. How are you? Can you hear me? Well, that was stupid. Of course, you can't and we both know this is a purely one way conversation." She looked around and after noticing that there was no one there to deem her insane, continued, "You know, I don't think I've ever visited you before. I mean, to be honest, I didn't plan to. But, ummm, I've been having this weird urge to see you for the past few days." She pointed at her belly. "As you can see, I'm pregnant," she said, "yay! I'm having a baby! Whoop!" She rolled her eyes. "I don't feel excited."

She took a deep breath. She was stalling. She needed to stop that. "I'm kind of happy that you left our religion," she said, "I mean, no offence, but if you were still a Parsi, you wouldn't have a grave right now. So good life decision on that. Me?! I'm not really a Parsi either. Mum would be horrified. Dad, not so much. But then, he didn't leave his entire life behind in France to be with him like Mum did, now did he? Excellent case of male privilege, as you called it and I completely agree with you. But we're not debating gender politics right now." She stopped and thought for a moment. "2003. That's when we last spoke of that. You were writing your graduation speech. I helped. Well, you  _made_  me help. I wanted nothing to do with it.

"But that's not the point. Point is, I'm happy that there's a grave with your name on it which I can visit if I wanna talk to you. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. As you can see, I'm having a girl so I wonder if she's going to be like you or me. Because, that's really the only type of girls I've ever known.

"I have this weirdest fear that her life might be shit like my life. Not that it's shit anymore but you know- it  _was_  shit. It's only been good for around four years. Funnily enough, that's how long it's been since you died." She paused for a moment.

"I didn't want you to die," she admitted, "a lot of people are under the impression that I was happy when you died because of the way I was reacting. I wasn't happy that you died, Sara. I was focused on your parents. I wanted them to feel pain, agony... every imaginable negativity like I'd felt all my life. But I didn't get to see that. And I wasn't happy. I was so focused on your parents that I didn't stop to think that my best friend- the only one who knew anything had died. I had that realization in Gotham but when I came to New York, it was just too much to handle. There were so many people who were waiting for me to react badly- because they wanted me to put on a show. It was ideal revenge but I promise, I never wanted to do that. Which is why I didn't leave, Sara. I stayed until I couldn't take it any longer.

"And I promised I wouldn't visit you because you were a scapegoat for my hatred for your parents and I let that blind me. But the fact that I wasn't fair to you haunts me everyday. I feel as though I should've died and you should've been around because you're such a good person like that. I'm not. I don't know what I did to deserve what I have. I've gotten everything I'd never dreamed I'd get and I don't know what I did to get it.

"And I'm scared because I never prepared myself for good things. I was so far gone that I don't know how to react to the good things that are happening to me. I want to raise my daughter to be like you. Kind, generous, a little naive but never hurt anyone and I definitely want her to be girlish and well liked. Everyone likes you. You should've seen the people at your funeral. I don't think anyone's going to be attending mine because I'm a bitter person like that.

"Dan said coming here would make things better. That I'd be able to move on. I know it's too late for us but I'm hoping that you're listening to me right now and forgiving me like you used to when I'd mess up when we were young... so yeah. I came here looking for closure. We're gonna see how well that worked when I get back to Gotham. I'm hoping you heard me on some spiritual level and have forgiven me because I don't know what I'm going to do if you haven't," she concluded before turning to leave.

Misha stopped, taken aback. Her uncle, Jury, was standing behind her.

She felt her heart skip a beat.


	28. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misha's speech is quite personal. I'm beginning a new chapter in my life and I wish I could say some of the things she said to someone once important to me. Betrayal's horrible. But it's when you let go that you finally feel happy again. At least, that's what I've learnt.

There was a time when she would have given anything to have a moment alone with Jury. Especially when after her parents had died but Jury had never really wanted anything to do with her. When her aunt had first forced her out of her bedroom when her parents had died, Misha had been convinced that her aunt was being rude to her because she was like that; the moment she'd tell her uncle, she'd thought, her aunt would be getting.

Of course, Jury wasn't what Misha had thought him to be.

And thus began the cycle of all the men in her life betraying her.

Until Jack came into the picture. Misha had made Jack promise that he wouldn't be doing the same with her or she'd kill him. As simple as that.

But that wasn't important.

Her uncle sat across from her. His coffee was untouched, as was hers. They sat in silence, not speaking, unlike the rest of the cafe around them. People around them were laughing, talking (loudly) about their day or some recent event. They didn't seem to have a care in the world because right now, they were with those they loved and trusted. The work day had ended and it was time to finally relax.

Misha didn't feel like relaxing. She felt the opposite of it. She did not know why she'd agreed to come here with him. She wanted nothing to do with him. But then, given the setting and what she'd just said when she came across him, she hadn't had it in her to reject him. Sara wouldn't have wanted that.

"So," she began, hoping to start a conversation.

Her uncle's eye caught hers and Misha looked away.

"How have you been?" he asked her for the second time now. She hadn't answered his question back at the cemetery.

"I've been...well," she replied.

"And your boyfriend?"

"He's well," she told him, turning her attention to her cup. Misha took a teaspoon and stirred in some sugar. She didn't really take any sugar with her coffee but right now, she'd do anything to avoid her uncle's eyes.

Eyes that looked too much like her father's for her liking.

There was a time when Misha would believe that those were really her father's eyes judging her, disgusted by her because of her cowardice. Even though she'd stopped thinking of them like that, right now- she felt strange. As though her father was watching her; after all, why now? She hadn't seen her uncle in years. He hadn't been there at the funeral. Why did she have to see him now after all these years?

"Ah, good, and I believe that things are fairing well for you," he spoke and she nodded.

"Yes," she stirred her spoon aimlessly.

"I'd been meaning to see you," he went on, "but there were complications."

"Aunt Rumaysah didn't want you to see me," she stated.

Jury looked stunned for a moment before saying, "Among other things."

Misha crossed her arms on the table. "Yeah..."

"You look tired."

"The doctor says it's normal at this point."

"Your mother was never tired."

Misha made eye contact with him at that, brow raised in question. It occurred to her that he was around- still unmarried- when she was born so he would know. She allowed herself to unwind a bit. "I didn't take after her then."

"If you were in New York, you could've gone to her doctor. I believe he's still practising," Jury stated.

"If I was in New York, I wouldn't be married," she replied honestly.

That seemed to annoy him. A pained look formed on his face. "Come now Misha, I would've made sure-"

"You wouldn't have," she interrupted firmly. "You would've been too busy blaming Sara on me because, to quote your wife, I'm some sort of witch like that."

Jury sighed. "I apologize for her," he said, "she hasn't been the same since Sara died. Says all kinds of gibberish these days. I don't know what's wrong with her."

Misha looked away to keep from laughing. "She's getting what she deserved," she said. "What goes around, comes around doesn't it?"

He said nothing to that.

"I worshipped you," she mumbled.

Jury frowned. "What?"

"I  _worshipped_  you," she spoke a little louder. Her heart raced faster. She never thought she'd be able to say it aloud. "And you betrayed me."

"Misha..."

"You did," she went on nonchalantly. "You meant the world to me. I loved you more than I loved my own father. I trusted you more than I've ever trusted anyone and you let me down. You betrayed me for a woman you hadn't known for six months before you married her and you chose  _her_  over  ** _me_**."

Jury's face paled.

Misha didn't know what came over her. She'd dreamt of this moment when she was younger. The moment she'd confront her uncle. For the longest time it had been her biggest wish. One chance. One moment to speak to him, to let him know how his actions had completely ruined her life.

She'd stopped thinking about it when she moved to Gotham but the thought was there.

Now, she was here- telling him what she thought of him. Life was strange, Misha decided. She'd come to New York hoping to find peace with the idea of her cousin's most unfortunate death and yet here she was, having coffee with her uncle and unravelling her most deepest thoughts and wish.

"And you didn't care. You didn't feel anything. You destroyed my life, my self esteem. You broke me. You treated me like _shit_ ," she continued, " **Me** \- didn't I mean something to you once? Why'd you do it? The business? It came to me anyway and I sold it because I was never interested in it to begin with. Your children are dead, your wife's crazy- not that she ever wasn't- so, I'll ask you once more, only this time you're actually listening to me: _was it worth it?_ "

His eyes had become glassy as he said, "I did what I thought was best for my family."

Misha took a deep breath. That hurt more that she'd expected. "Wasn't I a part of your family?" she asked him.

His lips quivered slightly as he tried to answer. "I... I don't have an answer to that."

"Of course you don't," she agreed.

They sat in silence once more before he broke it. "I regret what's happened between us," he said softly. "But I'm afraid it's too late now isn't it?"

She smiled a little at that. "I've wanted to hear you say that for such a long time," she answered, "but you're right. It is too late. Actions speak louder than words." She got up to leave. Jury followed her.

"It was nice seeing you," she said.

"Yes," he agreed. She turned to go but he stopped her. "I'm so sorry," he finally said and she felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders.

Misha said nothing, she only nodded before leaving him.

She'd waited so long to hear those words. Even though she'd given up on him, the weight of those three words was immense. She felt...  _liberated_. As though nothing could go wrong. She could finally live her life to the fullest with no emotional baggage stopping her. She was free. She'd finally gotten closure. She was now ready to start her life.

Or so, she thought until she noticed a familiar figure standing in the crowd ahead of her.

_Harley Quinn._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jack was hysterical. It was ten o'clock and there was still no sign of Misha. "Where is she?" he inquired of Bruce Wayne.

"She's not in Gotham," he replied, looking over the surveillance footage on the various screens in front of him. "It's like she's vanished."

"You said she'd been spotted in the ferry," Jack went on. "What happened after that?"

"She vanished," Bruce said, "she was making a conscious effort not to be seen by the cameras. It's as though she didn't want anyone to know where she was headed."

"Well, there's got to be a way to find her," he exclaimed, "what about bills?"

"Working on it," Iona replied, quickly typing on her own laptop. "She bought a ticket to New York," she informed them after a few moments, "any idea why?"

"Her father's brother is in New York," Jack replied. "But she isn't talking to him."

"That's strange,"Iona said, "she was having coffee with him a few hours ago."

"What?" Both Bruce and Jack walked over to her station. Iona played the security footage for them. "I hacked into surveillance cameras around the area," she told them, "she visited a graveyard before. Any idea why?"

"Well, she must've visited her cousin's grave," Jack told her, "but then again, she hasn't ever done that before either."

"Maybe she wanted to," Bruce suggested, "maybe she missed her or something."

Jack nodded. "True, but then- why isn't she here yet?"

"I'll keep looking around for clues," Iona said.

Jack turned to Bruce. "Do you think there's a possibility-"

"That she's staying there overnight? Yes, there is," he agreed, "but she isn't picking up the phone. Why isn't she doing that?"

Jack rubbed his forehead. "God, why did I let her go?" he wondered aloud. "I should've taken her to the doctor myself. Why does she insist on doing everything herself?"

"Do you think it has something to do with Boston?" Iona piped.

Both turned to face her. "What?"

Iona looked from Jack to Bruce and then back at Jack. "Wait- she didn't tell you?" she asked.

"Tell me what?"

"She's got a job offer from Goldman Sachs," she said, "they wanted her to move to Boston and all..." her voice trailed off as she saw the hopeless expressions of the two men. "I have a feeling that I told you something I shouldn't've."

"Boston?" Bruce wanted to know. "But why?" He turned to Jack who looked back at him sheepishly.

"I didn't think she'd really gone to look for a job," he answered.

_"What?"_

"We talked about moving from Gotham," Jack told him. "Misha said something about applying to other places but I didn't think she was serious."

Bruce didn't look too happy. "You're telling me this now?" he exclaimed. "For all we know, she's probably giving another job interview!"

"Yeah right," Iona quipped, "She would've told me." Then, "Oh fuck."

Bruce walked over to her. "What?"

Iona's face paled as she showed him the screen. Jack's eyes widened.

"That- that-"

"It's her."

On the screen they saw a clear footage of Harley Quinn approaching Misha before it blacked out.

"They- they have her!" Jack exclaimed, his voice shaking in fear.

Just then, Alfred walked into the room. "This was sent for Mister Napier," he said, holding out a box.

All three of them turned to see a large, chained box in Alfred's hand.

"Keep it here," Bruce said.

Slowly- after scanning it to check for bombs and the like- they opened it. Inside was a single piece of paper along with clothes belonging to the Joker.

_**'I expect nothing but Mistah J.** _

_**\- Harley xoxo'** _

"We have to go," Bruce stated.

Jack nodded. "I think it's about time we end this."


	29. Honour

Misha didn't feel scared often. The feeling was vague and alien to her. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, the last time she had been scared was when she was twelve and had been taken to a psychiatrist's practise by her uncle's lawyers to have her deemed 'mentally unfit' to inherit her father's business.

 _Old things are coming back,_  she told herself, resting her hand on her belly. And she wasn't sure how she felt about it. She was glad though. She'd never have to think about her paternal family again. But then, her situation wasn't any better right now than it had been a while ago. She was in trouble. She was tired and she was afraid.

Harley's unsettling stare wasn't doing her any favour though. The lunatic had been looking at her from her spot next to the glass barrier that defined the parameters of Misha's prison for the last few hours.

"Err..." Misha said, beginning to answer the question she'd asked her a while ago. "I don't know."

"How don't ya know?" Harley asked her.

"I'm not a psychologist."

"Funny, I am. I have a PhD in Psychology," Harley told her. Her voice was foggy as though she was in a trance. She looked almost nostalgic to Misha. She briefly wondered if it had anything to do with Misha's situation. Was Harley jealous of her?

There was no doubt about that. Harley hated her and it had everything to do with her relationship with Jack. But then, Misha knew Jack. Not the Joker.

"If it makes you feel any better, it's Jack who likes me not the Joker," Misha stated.

Harley let out a shrill, humourless laugh at that. "You don't really believe that do you? Jack and the Joker are one and the same."

"Not in my experience they aren't," Misha retorted and Harley glared.

"It used to be that way before  _you_  came along."

"Huh?!"

"I tried so hard. To get Mistah Jay back but turns out, he'd been there the whole time. He just didn't want to be a criminal anymore. Can you believe it? The Clown Prince of Crime doesn't want to do crime anymore!" she shrieked. "And it's all  _ **your**  _fault! You made him what he is! You  _changed_  him!"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Misha responded, "honestly you should've been able to hold him off if  _your_  love was so strong. But the truth is, he never loved you. He used you. You need to accept that and move on. He's changed now, yes. He's not the crazy, selfish lunatic we knew. Let him go. It's for the better."

She was quiet for a minute and Misha hoped that she was re-evaluating her stance. Perhaps she could convince her to let her go. She wasn't sure. Harley didn't seem that bright to Misha but then she was biased.

"It's like the last time you know," Harley said after a long time.

Misha knitted her brows.

"His first wife, Jeannie was pregnant too when she died," she told her, "and her situation wasn't quite that different from yours."

"What do you mean?" Misha asked her slowly.

"Well, he got himself involved with the wrong kind of people back then too. And she paid for it. I'm not very optimistic about your situation either, Misha."

"Wait a minute... the mob killed Jeannie?"

"Houses don't electrocute themselves," Harley's voice dipped low. "Someone's gotta do it."

"What're you planning?"

"It won't hurt." She didn't answer her question. "I just want him back. That's all."

Misha didn't like what their conversation was foreshadowing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Do you really have to wear the make up?" Bruce inquired.

Jack, who was adjusting the coat he used to wear as the Joker, nodded. "I need to get into the  _mood_ ," he stated.

Bruce raised a brow. "You won't try to kill me when you're him... will you?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope," he said, "I can control him. It's what I've been teaching myself to do for the better part of this year. Are you sure  _you_  won't beat me to a pulp?"

Bruce frowned. "What?"

"Last time I was the Joker, you beat me up pretty bad," he reminded him, "I had a fractured rib and a broken wrist. And that's  _before_  Misha entered the room."

He suppressed a grin. "Oh yeah."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "So you  _did_  enjoy that," he said and Bruce shook his head in denial, wearing the Batman mask to hide his failing facial expressions.

"Heh, I knew it," he went on, "I knew you enjoyed it. You beat me up too much for you to  _not_  like it."

"You killed people," was all Bruce said, "I enjoyed making you feel the pain you made others feel."

"Riiiiiggggghhhhhhttt."

"Shut up. We're rescuing your wife."

"Oh yeah."

Bruce eyed him suspiciously. Had the Joker really taken over him, pretending to be Jack?

He wouldn't know. He would know though, he reckoned as they exited the Bat Cave and made their way towards the warehouse that housed their common enemies, once they arrived there. Bruce was prepared to maim Jack or even break his rule and  _kill_  him if he tried to help the villains in any way.

Jack didn't say another word for the rest of the journey. When Bruce sneaked a peak at him every now and then, he saw that the Joker looked worried. That made him a little optimistic. At least that said something about the Joker's loyalties. Not for the first time he wondered if they had it wrong about the Joker. Maybe  _he_  liked Misha first and allowed her to see the other humane side of him.

They would never know what it really was.

Bruce focused on the mission.

They were able to sneak inside the warehouse quickly enough. It was only when they'd reached (what they assumed to be) the main room when the lights turned on suddenly. Bruce pulled Jack behind a few crates piled high on top of each other and they watched on.

Poison Ivy had entered the room. Harley Quinn was accompanying her. They seemed to be having an argument.

"I'm telling ya," Harley was saying, "it's perfect!"

"I don't think he's going to show up," Poison Ivy said, "the Bat and him have nothing in common."

"But he could!"

"No, I don't think so."

"Jim Gordon is the Batman! Of course he'll show up! I bet wittle Jack boy will run to him the first chance he gets!"

Ivy looked sceptical. "First of all, I don't think Jim Gordon's the Batman," she said, "secondly, the Batman will show up anyway because everyone knows she's missing at this point."

Harley looked disappointed. "I guess you're right," she sulked. "Still, I'd love to see her out of the equation."

"She will be," Ivy agreed, "before the night's over."

Bruce had to restrain Jack to keep him from jumping out of their hiding spot and attacking them. Unlike Bruce, he didn't really have much remorse about killing people. He hadn't seen him kill anyone but Bruce had a knack for telling that about people. Jack looked like someone who'd kill anyone who did him wrong. It would take a lot to push him to it but then these guys had his wife. He didn't need a lot of restraining to want to kill them. Not that he blamed him. But still. They needed time.

Harley sat down on the floor. "How long do ya think it'll take for the others to show up?" she asked.

Ivy joined her. "A while," she said, "The Riddler was saying something about perfect timing and all."

"Really? That's weird. I swear the Penguin was saying something like that too."

Ivy looked impressed as she turned to Harley.

"I didn't think you'd catch on," she looked to where Bruce and Jack were hiding, "right boys?"

"Yoo- hoo, you can come out now," Harley said in a sing song voice prompt both Bruce and Jack to leave their hiding spot, ready to fight.

"This is poetic," Ivy grinned, "Ready Harley?"

"I was born ready for this," she exclaimed before charging at them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She hadn't expected herself to feel so calm.

The Riddler was guiding her through what seemed to be an underground tunnel.

"See," he said to her, "I know that your husband and the Bat will show up. I can't let them get to you. I just can't."

"Why am I involved anyway?" she asked him warily.

"You're his wife," The Riddler explained, "We've got to exploit his one weakness."

"What about Harley?" she found herself asking even though she already knew the answer.

"Harley? Pfft. You're the real deal, Misha. You should've known better than to let a criminal camp out at your house."

Misha didn't let it show how disturbing that sounded to her. Did everyone knew how she'd met Jack?

"So where are you taking me?" she asked him, hoping to steer the conversation to a more...  _appropriate_  topic.

"Nightmare chamber," he replied cheerfully, "don't worry. It won't harm your baby. It'll just leave you disoriented."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she blurted out.

The Riddler laughed. "Well, unlike my previous formulae which could render one physically as well as mentally unwell, this one only works on you psychologically. You'll be traumatized but your baby will be fine. As well your physical and mental health. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Misha gave him a mock smile. "That made me feel  _so_  much better."

That struck a nerve. His face became red and his eyes flashed in anger for a moment. And then he was back to normal- well, as normal as he could be- and gave her a big, big smile. "My, my, aren't you feisty?" he wondered aloud. "Is that why he likes you? Because you're so feisty!? Heh, and don't worry. It'll be great. Maybe it'll help you re-evaluate your life choices."

Misha didn't get a chance to respond to that. The Riddler pushed her through a small, metal door. She stumbled into the room, only just managing to prevent herself from falling when he shut the door close behind her.

 _Great_ , she rolled her eyes, looking around. The room was a little larger than a walk in closet. Its interior was entirely made of a bright, grey metal with ventilation pipes zigzagging across the ceiling.  _Another prison. I really needed one of these._

But the worse was yet to come.

As Misha continued to observe her new prison, a hissing sound broke out.

White and green gas came out of the pipes. She covered her nose with her hands in an effort to stop herself from inhaling it but it was a vain effort. The gas filled the room and her lungs and true to his words, it didn't suffocate her. Instead, she felt herself losing focus of the room around her. When her vision cleared she was no longer in the metal room. Instead, she was standing in an open space. It was cloudy. The grass beneath her feet was wet- and yes, she'd suddenly gotten bare feet- as though it had been raining a while ago. Misha walked on and found herself near a lake. It looked oddly familiar. She walked along the lake until she came across a bench shielded by a massive oak tree. As she neared it, she realized that two people were sitting there.

They were two women.

Well, one of them was a woman. A pregnant one at that. She was very pretty- around Misha's age- with blond hair and a smiling face. She animately talked to her partner, a young girl of about fourteen or fifteen years of age. The girl looked tired. She had dark bags under her eyes, her hair was messily cut and her clothes looked faded and old.

Misha gasped as she realized that she was looking at the teenage version of herself.

She felt her heart stop.

If that was her as a teenager then that made the woman...  _Jeannie Napier._

 _This isn't possible,_  she told herself,  _this can't be real!_

And yet there they were, talking right in front of her. Misha saw as her teenage self tried to smile, look happy for the woman and fail miserably because she was horribly envious of her. She watched Jeannie talk about a life she would never have because the mafia had probably already decided to kill her by now.

 _So this is what he meant by nightmare chamber,_  she thought. _He's going to make me relive every moment I'm ashamed of._

A coughing alerted her of someone's presence. Misha spun around and froze.

Behind her stood Jack...  _as the Joker._

And he was smiling at her sinisterly.

Suddenly, she knew that it was about to get much, much worse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They made a good team, he had to admit it. Heck, if it wasn't for the situation they were in right now, Bruce might have even thought about a possible alliance between him and Jack.

Of course, he could still totally talk about it with him and all that but- again- it wasn't the right time.

Right now, they were looking for Misha.

And fighting bad guys.

Mostly fighting the baddies.

Well, they  _were_  fighting the baddies.

Jack was tying up an unconscious Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Mad Hatter and the two twins whose names he could never bring himself to remember. Bruce looked down at his gloved hands. He wasn't sure why but after a really long time, he felt tired of doing this.

"We've got to find Misha,"Jack told him and he nodded.

Even though they'd been told where Misha was- "You'll never find her in time!" she'd shrieked before being knocked out by a very angry Joker before Harley spilt the beans. Apparently the Riddler was experimenting on her with some new gas he'd created- the time spent in looking for her would be an issue. If the gas was exactly what they feared it was.

Bruce had heard rumours but it had never been confirmed before. Until now. But it made sense. The way Ivy had cackled, Harley's satisfied smile before being knocked out, the Mad Hatter's acceptance- it all pointed towards one thing: the fear toxin. These criminals were the worst of the worst. They would never back out from a fight and surrender so easily unless they knew something which Batman and Joker didn't.

 _They surrendered because they know that we've lost,_  Bruce thought, they've won.  _The Joker's paid his price._

"We need to hurry," he told Jack and they bolted.

"Exactly why have they taken her to the cellar?" Jack asked him.

"There's a gas chamber down there," he replied.

Jack paled. "You don't mean-"

"Fear toxin," Bruce nodded.

"I thought that was just a rumour," Jack said.

"I thought so too."

His face darkened in rage. "I'm going to kill him when I find him," he swore.

They arrived in the basement and broke down the single door that was there. Inside, the Riddler was waiting for them. He fired at them but Jack dodged and grabbed him, slapping the gun away from him.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

The Riddler laughed hysterically. "Your dues are paid," he whispered. Jack saw red. He punched him multiple times on the face. "What the fuck is  _that_  supposed to mean?" he roared.

"She won't be able to come back from where I've sent her," he told him.


	30. Saviour

"But he was  _so_  real," she insisted. "And it seemed so likely! It happened! I swear it did!" Her lips trembled as she gazed at her psychologist.

Doctor Quinnell looked up from her notes. She was a stern looking woman in her late thirties who preferred to wear the colour black over virtually everything. Growing up Misha had often thought that she was a widow- her late mother had told her that it was customary for widows to dress in black for whoever long she deemed appropriate to mourn the loss of her husband. But that was their culture back in Pakistan and this was New York. Later, Misha had learned that Doctor Quinnell was just a bitter person. She was also the only psychologist willing to 'treat' her without asking too many questions. Her uncle preferred it that way.

"You believe that you met Joker- the mass murderer terrorizing Gotham city- and are expecting a child with him?"

Misha felt her face flush as she looked down. Her hands were trembling. Why were they trembling? They  _never_  trembled! But then, she never went to a psychologist. Hadn't her uncle locked her up at a psychiatric ward for a while? Who was this lady then? But then, why did she have memories of herself coming to her ever since she was twelve years old? More importantly, why was she in New York? Didn't she do her undergraduate degree from Gotham?

"I- I have to go," she told her. "I'm terribly confused. I swear I wa-"

"No, you're not confused," Quinnell responded, "you've just been day dreaming this whole thing."

Misha's eyes furrowed. "What? How...?"

"Don't worry," she went on, "it happens to the best of us. Of course it happened to you but given your history, it only makes sense. I believe you've developed schizophrenia. I'll have to run additional tests to determine it for sure but to be very fair, it makes sense. All the signs are clear."

"I... I don't believe it," she whispered.

"Do you?" asked her psychologist. "Misha, be realistic. You honestly believe that a criminal changed his ways for you. That Bruce Wayne might have a crush on you which is why he hired you as his secretary? This isn't reality. It's the fantasies of a lonely, scared child trapped in the body of a twenty three year old woman who craves attention and desperately needs to grow up. I've treated you for more than ten years. I think I would know if any of this happened to you."

"But it  _did_  happen."

Doctor Quinnell shook her head. "It didn't. The sooner you accept it, the better."

Misha nodded slowly. She felt an enormous pressure building at the back of her head.  _None of this is real_ , a voice whispered. _None of this is real. None of thi-_

"None of this is real," she whispered.

Doctor Quinnell frowned. "What?"

"You're lying to me," she said. "You're lying. I- it can't be. I- I- I know what hap- happ- happened..."

Her psychologist got up from her seat and walked to her. "Are you alright?" she said. It occurred to Misha that this was the first time in her entire life that she'd seen her panic.

"You're lying to me!" she cried. "It was real! It was! It can't  _not_  be real! It just can't!"

But Doctor Quinnell wasn't listening to her. She was focusing on her phone. The door opened behind them and a woman in white walked in. Robotically, she took Misha's right arm in a tight grip and pulled out an injection from her front pocket. Misha's senses went numb as she watched the woman inject some dark green looking serum into her system. She felt herself become light headed, her eyes watered and then there was a burning sensation spreading throughout her body.

And then it happened.

It felt as though the world around her had suddenly started making sense. Misha felt her lips quiver, her pulse thicken.

That's why there was no Jack this morning. That's why she was in a shitty apartment in New York City instead of Gotham. She'd graduated from Gotham and returned to New York. No Bruce Wayne employed her. No Joker showed up in her apartment one fine morning.

It was all in her head. To cope with the reality of her situation.

She wasn't lucky.

She was a mess.

A wreck.

And truth be told, she was a dreamer. Who couldn't achieve anything in life and so had resorted to daydreaming.

The thought repulsed her.

She'd promised herself. She'd promised that she'd make it out. That she'd do something. Even though she hadn't believed herself when she had made the promise, she'd hoped.

And that's the thing about hope: it's for those who're truly hopeless.

"I have to go," she managed to mumble before charging for the door.

"No, you're not supposed to-" the nurse began but Quinnell stopped her.

"Let her go," she said. "She needs time to think."

Misha ran out of the building towards her crappy apartment, stopping only to open the front door. Inside, she leaned against the door, taking deep breaths. Why was this happening to her? she wondered. Why would she do this to herself? Why-

_None of this is real,_  the voice whispered again but Misha shook if off.

"This is real," she told the voice. "This is real." And it made her feel worse. Everything she thought she'd known-

**_STOP IT._ **

She took a deep breath and made for her kitchen. Pouring herself a glass of water, Misha took a sip and turned around to put it on the counter when she stopped.

Her eyes widened.

"Jack...?" she whispered disbelievingly.

In front of her stood the Joker- in all of his glory. And he did not look amused.

"Harley did say that you knew it," he noted, walking towards her. "But what I want to know is: how?" He leaned forward, inspecting her face. "There's nothing special about you. You're just spoilt, rotten child. And I'm not even trying to be rude to you right now. So, how do you know?"

Misha frowned. "Know what?"

"My name."

"I- I don't know."

He turned his head to the side and thought for a moment before turning to her. "Eh, wrong answer," he said, plunging a knife into her stomach.

Misha howled in pain. She staggered back, leaning against the sink. She watched in horror as blood slowly covered her shirt- crimson against faded blue. She looked up at the Joker to find him grinning menacingly. Misha tried to speak but found herself unable to do so.

"Death won't come easy for you bitch," he told her, "this is how it will end. No. Matter. What. You. Do."

And with that, he walked away.

Leaving her.

To die.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jack pushed against the metal door that separated him from Misha. It wasn't working. The door was sealed shut. There was no way to get in. Behind him Bruce made his way towards the control panels in the far end of the room.

"There's gotta be something here," he said, looking at the various buttons.

Jack nodded as he continued to push at the door. Nothing seemed to be working. He quickly dashed to where the Riddler lay beaten and picked him by his collar.

"You," he sneered, shaking him, "how do we open this door?"

The Riddler moaned in pain and shook his head. "No matter... it's too late."

Jack threw him down. "It's not too late, dammit!" he yelled. He responded by laughing.

Meanwhile Bruce quickly worked his way through the control panel, carefully processing what could stand for what. Finally, he got to the button that opened the door.

A loud alarm rang through the room (and probably the entire warehouse), followed by a hissing sound from the door. Green and white gas spilled out. Bruce pressed the FAN button, causing the overhead exhaust fans in the room to start spinning, clearing out all the gases.

Jack ran into the room.

Inside, he found Misha sitting on a bench against the wall. She was rest her head on her hands. He walked up to her and touched her shoulder to alert her of his presence.

She jumped, looking at him in wonder.

"It can't be," she whispered, "you killed me. You left. What're you doing here?!" She moved away from him, clearly frightened of him.

Jack frowned. "Misha," he said, "it's me. Jack. Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "No, no, I'm not okay," she responded, her voice cracking, "I don't know where I am. Why're you being so nice to me? You killed me, Joker. You  _killed_  me!"

Jack sat down beside her. "Darling, that didn't happen," he tried reasoning. "It's the fear toxin. That's what the gases were."

"No," she went on, "it doesn't make sense. Why- why're you wearing make up?"

Jack looked at her sheepishly. "I don't know," he admitted, "it's part of the ensemble, I guess."

"The Joker always knows what he's up to," she said, "you're tricking me. You- you're fooling me. You're luring me into a false sense of security and then you'll kill me. That's what you do! That's what you've always done."

By this time Bruce had entered the room.

"That's not what he's done," he informed her. Misha looked at him with wide eyes.

"Y- you're B-B- Batman," she stated.

"I am," he said, "you work for me. You do remember that, don't you Misha?"

She looked confused. "But it's not real," she repeated. "It was all in my head..."

"No," he reasoned, "what you saw right now, for the last few hours. That was in your head.  _This_  is real."

"It is?" she asked, looking from Bruce to Jack.

"It is," he confirmed.

"It's real," she repeated.

Jack nodded.

"Thank god," she breathed out, before hugging him. Jack gently rubbed her back as she started to sob.

"Oh my god, it was horrible," she told him. "I was- I was trapped in this- this-"

"Shh, it's okay," Jack whispered, "it's over now." He and Bruce exchanged a look, prompting the Batman to nod and leave them alone in the room, calling the cops after he was out.

"I don't know- I think I'm-"

"Misha, you were in here for god knows how long," Jack told her, "it's okay to feel a little disoriented."

That alarmed her. "A little disoriented?!" she cried. "Jack- that was so fucked up! I- I thought nothing I knew was real. I thought you'd left- that, that the J- Joker had taken over you compl-"

"Hey," he said, taking her face into his hands and stroking it, "it was just an illusion. That's what the fear toxin does. It brings out your greatest fear."

Misha allowed herself to smile at that. "Well, then I guess my greatest fear is losing you."

Jack smiled and kissed her. "And mine is losing you."

They were quiet for a few moments and soon heard the sirens of the police cars showing up.

"So what're we going to do now?" she asked him.

"I don't know," Jack replied, "go home. Watch some telly. Take you to a doctor."

Misha looked at him a bit annoyed. She didn't really like visiting the doctor. "I'm fine," she told him, "I don't need-"

"You've been exposed to the fear toxin," Jack stated very seriously, "the hell I'm taking you to the doctor."

Misha made a face and Jack laughed, kissing her once more.

"What're we going to do after that?" she asked him.

This time he scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't know."

"I want to move," she said suddenly.

Jack frowned. "What?"

"I... I want to leave Gotham," she elaborated, "I want to start fresh. I don't- I can't... stay in this city anymore. It's too much."

Jack bit his lips as he thought about it and then finally said, "Okay. We'll talk about this later."

Misha nodded and they stood up- Jack helping her stand up- to leave. They were in the doorway when Misha took hold of his arm and said, "We really need to move."

Jack nodded, realizing that she was serious. He promised to speak to her first thing tomorrow or whenever this was sorted. That seemed to make Misha a tad bit more happy.

Outside, the police officers were arresting the baddies. Upon seeing, Jack- they stopped momentarily to clap for him. Jack frowned. Jim Gordon approached him and said, "Batman tells me you did all of this on your own. Well done!" And that was when he realized that he wasn't as much of an outsider as he previously believed himself to be. Jack shook hands with Gordon and even though Misha looked alarmed the entire time, he allowed himself to relax for the first time in a very long time. His wife was beside him and no one was judging him for being the Joker. What more could he ask for?


	31. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd it's finished.

The sun was setting in Gotham City, its last rays shining on the steps of Gotham City Hall. Its shone on Jack Napier and his wife and the golden medallion he'd received from the mayor- a token of gratitude for taking on some of Gotham's most notorious criminals and successfully capturing them. Mr. and Mrs. Napier smiled at the cameras; photographers and reporters were all around them and it took a few police men to hold them back. Alfred was waiting for them at the end of the steps and guided them to a car nearby.

"I didn't know you'd be picking us up," Misha remarked as she sat inside, followed by her husband.

Jack nodded a greeting to Alfred who did the same.

"Master Wayne suggested to pick up the guests of honor," he informed them.

Misha said nothing, shaking her head- it was so typical Bruce to do that. Jack, on the other hand, just grinned. He rested a hand on his wife's stomach. Misha was almost seven months along now and despite her experience with the fear toxin, nothing had happened to her child's health. The Riddler was right, it seemed, Misha wasn't physically harmed. The fear toxin just shook her. That's all.

Misha begged to differ.

The journey to Bruce's house was a short one- though that was partly due to Alfred's fast driving above anything else.

They were welcomed warmly at the party with Bruce giving a speech in honour of the Napiers. All was well.

Until the party ended and Jack and Misha were leaving.

"I'll see again in four months," Bruce said to Misha. "My substitute secretary's a nightmare!"

He grinned at her who suddenly got very awkward. Jack coughed pointedly. "Tell him or I will," he stated.

Misha sighed and took a deep breath. "I'm surprised you already don't know about this Bruce," she said.

Bruce frowned. "About what?"

"We're moving," she said.

_"Moving?"_

"Away from Gotham."

"What? Why? You work here!"

"I resigned this morning."

"What- how-" Bruce looked around before realizing.  _"Lucius!_  I swear I give him more power than I should have. Misha, you can't! Amelia-"

"- _Ophelia_ ," Misha corrected him.

"-is  _horrible_! You can't just resign."

"I'm sure you'll find a better replacement for her," she informed him.

"Aww, c'mon. Do you really have to leave?" He turned to Jack, "Seriously man, after everything."

"This is Misha's wish," Jack told him, "I don't wanna go either."

"Yeah right," Misha glared at him.

"If it makes you happy, I'm happy," he repeated to her and she rolled her eyes.

Bruce looked pained. "So where are you moving?"

"Cambridge."

_"England?"_

"Massachusetts."

_"What?"_

"Yeah," she said.

Bruce made a face. "Why are you moving? Everything was perfect."

"Everything isn't perfect," Misha informed him, "and you know that. I want to start all over again. Gotham- there's just too much bad memories here."

He nodded even though it looked as though he disagreed with her. "Well then," he said to Jack, "there'll never be any Joker- Batman alliance after all?"

Jack smirked. "We'll have to see," he said, "I bet I can get this one to move back again here in a few months."

"Trust me, it's not happening," Misha stated, lightly hitting her husband on the arm. "Besides, it's safer. Gordon's going after the mob now, isn't he? Jack's been supplying names to him. Even though no one knows, I think it's best if we move out of the picture, ya know?"

Once more, Bruce nodded.

"I guess you're right Misha," he finally agreed, "I guess I won't be seeing you later after all."

"Don't be like this Bruce," she said, "you know I'll call."

"I know," he said.

"And I'll visit."

"Of course you will."

"I'm serious!"

"Me and Jack both know you're lying."

"I'm not!"

"Good bye, Misha."

"Good bye, Bruce."

"And good bye, Jack. Have a nice life."

Jack shook hands with him as he replied, "Same to you Batman, same to you."

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to feel about this one. I've been writing this fanfiction series for THREE WHOLE YEARS now and it's gone. Complete. Of course, this means I'll have more time to focus on my other stories but still. This was my baby for a really long time. I've got a spin-off kind of thing going around- a short story, you could say, about the relationship between Bruce and Iona. Check that out if you want. But STILL. It's over. No more Misha and Jack *cries in a corner*. Oh well. Life goes on. I guess. Thank you so much for reading my series! xxx


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